


Distant Souls

by FrostLight



Category: Kirby (Video Games), Metal Gear, Super Smash Brothers, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Gen, also 02 and Zero are interchangeable for me, also hints of Addie x Ribbon, be prepared for a lot of one-sided violence, mentions of otasune and Jupiter Family, was going for more of a high school crush vibe but dunno if it worked out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-09-04 23:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 70,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16799539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostLight/pseuds/FrostLight
Summary: Something about memories, about the nature of the dead and the darkness of the unknown seems beyond reach, and yet, here they are: a motley crew, held together by circumstance and coincidence. And as the will of this foreign world proves itself an unfriendly thing, one has to wonder how they, together or separately, will learn to cope.(This is the culmination of 6-7 years worth of thinking about an AU that I was never satisfied with, even after rewriting it twice, and no, this has very little to do with World of Light)





	1. Frail Dawn

_I’m not even sure, anymore._

He faded in, out, finding himself in the lonely static only to pull away, to lose the one anchor that kept him in place. His thoughts were a lifeless snowfield, where no living thing sought to tread.

 _Breathe_ , he told himself. _Breathe. There’s a reason for all of this._

In the white noise he felt himself encased by something rough, humming, pulsating with a palpable energy. Hardness corralled him in on all sides; he was aware that his feet were not touching earth, his limbs were held suspended, his neck and back were hunched over.

He felt something in himself crack, and his eyes opened as far as they could, the world slapping him wide awake with a rush of feeling and of light.

All at once he felt himself floating amidst something, and was aware of the feeling of nothingness that coated his legs, kept his quivering limbs in place. He raised his finger, but his body refused to obey, trapped, imprisoned with little room to move. The absence of air struck him suddenly, a blow that sped up his pounding heart. Words formed in his mouth but would not flow out; he tried to blink but found that difficult.

From a point in front of him came a blinding flare, a flash of movement that was at best a congealing blur. Pinpricks of light danced around him, illuminating his crystal cocoon, distorting the view as somewhere, in a faraway dream given substance, he could hear footsteps pounding. Somewhere even farther than that was an unearthly howl, torn from a wild beast and fitted cleanly to the lips of the dead and dying. He could hear the screams as if they were rushing through a tunnel, echoing violently, bouncing off of glass.

He knew them; he knew what they, the dead, sounded like—

Where had that come from?

Through the uneven surface the figure wound itself in a rotund shape, but the creases and curves fluctuated with the fading of the lavender light. He became more aware of a distinct pounding all around him, keeping time with his heart. The thought came to him to extend his hand, but it refused to move. His thoughts were spiraling away from him, and he was too delirious, too exhausted to chase after them.

The figure stepped closer, the clicking of the boots more distinct, the wave of choppy brown hair falling past tight shoulders and hesitant hands clenched at the sides. He knew the person was hesitant; he couldn’t explain it but somehow the way the figure moved made sense. He could barely make out thin lips, slanted eyebrows proud on scarred, dusted cheeks, and pointed ears that stuck out between the wild fringes.

She was familiar. He knew her, from a long while ago, from when he could still recollect the happy times. He had forgotten the details—it felt like ages after something he could not remember—but the familiarity was undeniable.

Like a trail of sunlight through a fog-ridden field, thoughts dripped down and coalesced into a shining, pulsating mass of memories, but they meant nothing. They were familiar, and that was all he knew about them. The fact they were to signal some change in his path was unimportant, beneath his notice. He didn’t have to worry about digging at the bottom of his recollections looking for scraps, now did he—

The woman on the other side of the crystal suddenly cast a spell and opened her hand, and at once an intangible weight crashed down, barreling into his chest and stopping the pulse there. He gasped, on the brink of hyperventilating, all thoughts forgotten save for those of survival. His back crumpled, his feet already crushed under the bulk of his own body. Life returned its energy to him, ripped him away from the comforts of silence. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and wished to forget it all. He felt as if his essence were dissolving, torn away from the safety of its crystalline shell, brought into a world he neither knew nor wanted to know.

But the enclosure suddenly fractured and the sound of cracking, rupturing crystal snapped him awake.

Rough, gloved hands steadied him as he collapsed, huffing, breathing heavily as his hair fell about his face, scratching the back of his neck. He managed to stutter—but even the sound of his own voice was new and strange— “Who… are y-you? What are you doing?”

“—I’m here to help.” Her voice carried a light, delicate accent to it, yet the venom, the harshness of it did not escape him. He knew, just from the voice alone. She was more familiar than he could have ever thought. “I—I’m… Just know that I won’t hurt you. I’m not going to put you in harm’s way, no matter the reason. Just trust me. This was meant to happen.”

Voices trailed out from the corridor, and there was a banging at the door.

 _She should have no reason to keep people locked out of this room,_ a part of him thought. Surely, they can’t be dangerous. They couldn’t be.

_Why would she do that? Does she know them…?_

“Can you walk?” She helped him to his feet, and the realization dawned on him that he was only wearing a thin black undershirt, thick enough only to cover his skin but failed to provided additional warmth; he shivered, his hands feelings clammy, lifeless. If she noticed, she paid it no heed. “I need to get us out. You’ll need to find your footing on your own.”

He leaned over a nearby rock outcropping, arms trembling, and he remembered, distinctly, that once in this same position his back had given out. If he could recall correctly, he was old, and his body had betrayed him, time and time again. He felt the pain and straightened at once, wobbling only slightly. “I’m fine.”

“Good, because I can’t afford to carry you the whole way. I’m certain they won’t let you go that easily, so if you want to stay alive, keep up with me.”

_Alive?_

He wrestled through the thoughts in his head, until he found one he was hard-pressed to throw away.

_Was I dead before?_

_If so, what brought me back?_

The doors burst open, and the woman charged, her rapier extended as she roared, sliced through a host of shadows. Their armor clanged as the shadows moved, and their weapons flashed along their edges, but she pressed forward, stabbed and whirled. One soldier aimed for her lower back but she had already moved out of the way, her blade merely an extension of her wrist as she flicked it, drove it through the soldier’s breastplate. Upon contact, the warrior dropped its sword and melted, leaving only the husk of ruined metal it once wore behind. Another cried out, and the sound it made was almost ethereal as her sword flashed and speared through its lower abdomen.

The blurs faded, and the soldiers stepped back, circling the woman in a loose corral. They gave low hisses, a crowd of hunters surrounding a bloodstained boar, with messy, rotting entrails already speared on its tusks. She paused, lowered her stance, and shifted her feet into a more casual position. Her body language must have given something away, for the crowd stepped back further—whether out of fear or disinterest, it was hard to tell—and studied her closely, red eyes peeking out from under their gleaming helmets.

The next second was almost too much to comprehend. One minute, the soldiers stood in a ragged circle, and the next—

They were aflame, stumbling into one another, screeching their alien screeches and dropping their swords and axes. The fire that ate away at their armor, sank into their blackened, shadowy flesh and left only a whisper behind curled around the woman’s blade like a swirling vine, a twisting rope of flame that reflected harshly off her metal gauntlet, casted shadows all over her torn and unkempt robes.

The back of her hand flared suddenly, and on it blazed the shape of a triangle that seemed to radiate warmth. With a few deft strokes, she cut down the burning shades closest to her, hair falling wildly and waving with the drifting smoke that began to crowd the room.

She turned wildly to face him, and called, “We’re clear. Let’s get moving.”

Without stopping to make sure he was following, she adjusted her grip around the hilt of her flaming sword, pushed away the last remnants of the shadow soldiers, and rushed out into the hallway.

He stumbled after her, ignoring the howls and cries of the departing spirits at his feet. It was strange, how they didn’t bleed, and how their bodies just… disappeared after death. He assumed that the lack of bodily innards made cleaning up after this woman much faster.

XxX

They passed by hallway after hallway, their path lit only by the occasional torch as they burned off the sweet smell of mold and mildewed walls. Any time a soldier would rush out to them, the soul would get cut down, burned out of existence to linger only in the shadows of where its unsubstantial feet once tread.

Then they were running past large double doors, the cries of an extraterrestrial army ambling about in their retreating footsteps.

A great expanse yawned before them, the skies black and devoid of stars as a cold midnight air rolled through the main hall, drifted over the plush carpet their feet tore as they bolted for the exit. Still behind them was the mass of writhing spirits, clanging swords and shields, the harsh whispers of rage that would not cease their conquest. Like hunters chasing foxes, they whooped, called, jeered as the escapee and his escort stumbled and staggered to freedom—

“Keep going,” the woman breathed jerkily. “I’ll hold them off. Get to safety; your life comes first.”

“No,” he said roughly, regaining his breath, and he pulled her through yet another set of doors as more soldiers poured out from corridors once hidden. “I need answers, and you’re the only one who can give them to me right now.”

She made no argument as she ran, but the look in her eyes was still that same hard look she had given him when she first found him. “Fine.” Even so, she waved her sword in an arc behind her, and a wall of fire erupted to life where it passed. “But… we need to find someplace quiet. Answers can wait until then.”

_Don’t talk when running_ , he thought. He would have told her this, but found that to be contradictory.

Then they were through, the wall of fire still rumbling in their wake, their feet pounding against the cold, lifeless dirt as the black sky welcomed them with open, fluid arms. A wintry wind pulled at the hairs on his arms, ruffled his pants, and he faltered to a heavy-footed stop behind a slab of obsidian that reflected light as only a black mirror could. The woman stopped close by, keeping her labored breathing to a reedy inhale through her thin nose.

She slumped down on the blackened, charred earth, and he followed suit, settling next to her.

A memory came to him then. “You’re… You’re Zelda, aren’t you?”

“I’m surprised you remember. We never talked much during the tournament, now did we?” She stared into the infinite void of the night, the corners of her mouth curling upwards. “Perhaps that was more my fault than anyone else’s. I was never good at initiating conversation with foreigners.”

_Tournaments, foreigners…_

Did he know who he was?

Meaningless images burst onto the scene, filling his head with the sounds of gunshots, the splatters of blood, the suffocating howls and screams of dying men and women. He smelled fresh snow, cold and clean, suffused with the scent of fallen pines, of tainted steel and a creaking winter ocean. He heard scraping metal and screeching as he saw a phantom of a beast rise up from the grave, and it opened its mouth to scream again—

“Snake,” she said, shaking his arm, “you’ll be fine. It’s all right.”

He held his forehead in one hand; the aching there was stubborn, planted firmly as it was in between his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Okay.” Through a deep breath, he rasped, “What’s going on?”

_You’re dead. This is hell, isn’t it? This is what you get for letting them down. For being you. Being born as a weapon of war has its downsides, and this mess is one of them. On the other hand, any second now and you’ll go back to being dead. Great. You can just wait around for it to happen. Simple._

That feeling of peace before death, lying in anticipation, waiting for the inevitable yet cherishing it all the same… Gone.

Zelda looked around, peeked over her shoulder, then turned to Snake and said, “Here. Let’s keep moving. We’ll find a place to rest in a moment, but I don’t want to risk getting caught by him.”

They got to their feet, and Snake brushed off his pants. He noted the way Zelda gripped her fists to her sides, kept her baggy-eyed gaze forward; he saw the way she moved, and whenever their hands were close to accidentally touching she pulled them away.

He decided not to comment on it. “Yeah, fine. But I need answers.”

She nodded curtly. “All in due time.”

As they walked, Snake massaged his chest, dragged a hand along his left cheek and scratched the ruined flesh. Still burnt. He sighed heavily and said, “Where was I?”

“On display, like a trophy.” Zelda clenched her teeth and growled, “I guess you just showed up somewhere, and he took advantage of you. He’s proficient at stripping away everything that makes you human, if only to serve his own goals. At times, I admire his skill.” She said that last line carefully, as if to disguise the easily transparent contempt that coated her words. “But, here we are. Just us.”

He didn’t want to pry. “I should thank you for saving me.”

“Save you? Either way, we’re dead,” she said, without missing a beat. “He’ll find out that one of his prizes was stolen from him, and he’ll come looking.”

_Is that all I am: a prize, a trophy? A commodity to be exchanged?_

He thought it ironic, then; he was a soldier, made to be the poster child of special forces, having broken away from those origins to be something more. Yet, here he was, doing the same things he had been made to do: surviving by the skin of his teeth, accomplishing whatever task people wanted him to. His profession was a matter of personal sacrifice, and those that followed his exploits were often struck by feelings of indignation, anger, and more often than not, grudging respect. He’d heard it countless times.

That didn’t make the situation sting any less, knowing that someone was taking advantage of who he was.

No. There was more than that.

Somewhere, someone was laughing and having the time of their life. Someone was feeling deeply entertained, seeing Snake living and dying, only for the cosmic injustice of it all to backhand him and call him a bumbling, narrow-minded idiot.

Zelda continued, as if Snake wasn’t there, “But what else is there to do but stand up to him? What else can be done, if only to stand up for what we know?” She shook her head. “I guess we’ll find out.”

He didn’t notice at first, but Zelda stopped him dead in his tracks, holding a hand in front of him as she surveyed the landscape, standing tall amongst the dead, blackened plain, her hair scattering behind her. “Help me look for someplace to stay. Maybe a cave, or a clear spot by a river, or something.”

“Sure, yeah.” Snake blinked his eyes to clear away the clouds, took in a deep breath as he placed a hand over his chest, felt the pulses there with an odd sense of detachment. He wasn’t supposed to be breathing. His heart shouldn’t have been working, and yet, here he was. “I’ll help.”

Zelda looked over once, her face pulled tight. “Much appreciated.”

They waded through the tall grasses, some distance apart. Snake saw Zelda sweep her path clear, gently pushing aside the grasses so she could weave through. Carefully, with trembling legs, he followed, clenching his teeth as goosebumps rose over his bare arms.

They wandered in silence, and Snake found the words, the questions piling on his tongue. No, he wasn’t going to ask Zelda, again. He didn’t want to put more pressure on her. He didn’t need her help, because that would be a waste of her time. She had made it clear; she didn’t want to talk to him. That was that.

Still, he found himself wanting to talk over the gentle wind, whirling in the background and stirring up rotting leaves, ashes that scattered like black snow. The sky was clear of clouds, but where there should have been a sun or moon was only an inky night, free of stars or the ringing chorus of crickets in the endless meadows; where there should have been room for midnight celebrations was only a thick silence that seemed to sulk in solitude as it carried a burden on its aged shoulders.

At once, the sound of the wind had died down, and suddenly Snake found himself standing at the mouth of a cave, the voices from inside the depths of the earth begging, clawing at the walls so they could be heard. Like ghostly songs from the dead, their melodies joined with the white noise, the fading wind until the notes of their cries melted away into the blackness.

Snake shivered, and this time it wasn’t just the cold. He looked over at Zelda, who had walked to his side in silence, whose scrunched eyebrows cast a shadow over her cheeks. She met his pensive eyes and shrugged, as if finding a resting place for the dearly departed and deciding to sleep by it was normal. Natural, even.

“Well,” she said, rolling up the sleeves of her robes, “I guess we settle in here for the night. Or whatever time of day it is here. I wouldn’t know.”

XxX

“So,” Zelda said, sitting down and piling black logs atop one another, “You don’t remember how you got here? Where you were?”

He shook his head. “I know I was dead, and that’s it. I was just there, and you found me.”

“Mmm.” Zelda straightened out her robes, flexed the knuckles of her right glove. “This is hard to explain, and I’m not even sure if that’s possible. Think about it like this: we exist in a dream, and though it may feel real and painful to us, there’s another perspective we’re not seeing. Like something has created this world and lives among us, but cares not for what happens to what it’s created.”

She set her palm to the wood pile and muttered a quiet word.

When she drew her hand away, orange sparks were dancing, and the entire pile went up in a wreath of vermillion flame. “Would you like to know about the creator? Maybe what I tell you won’t be helpful, maybe it will be.”

_What creator? God?_ Snake kept his mouth shut, but wondered it anyway. _What does it matter? We have no control, if my guess is right. She’s used to it, used to feeling this way and seeing the same thing over and over. And what else are we supposed to talk about? The weather? How we’ve been?_

But when he spoke, he said, “Sure.”

“I’ve seen his handiwork, his armies, his palaces. I’ve seen him in dreams as he tells me about how surprised he is to see someone like me, surviving, seeking life.” Zelda rubbed her hands together and held them over the fire. “Like a bystander that sees but is unwilling to act, he presides over it all. He’s watching, listening somehow, but he doesn’t care. He has no stake in the events that play out; to him, we’re little more than wind-up toys.”

“You sound like you know him well.”

“I have done my part.” She looked over at him, eyes glinting strangely. “But it’s been a while. I barely remember how it used to be. Although, I’m still alive, still breathing. There’s some hope in that, perhaps.”

She let a single lick of flame curl around her index finger, and as she studied the curves and the color, she said, “My first memory of being here was waking up after a dream, a kind of omen, if you will. I’m not one to ignore omens, especially if they come in your sleep.”

“What’d it say?”

Zelda met Snake’s eyes. “To find you. If I did, we’d have a chance of working something out. None of this is natural, and I’m not sure how it came to be. They said that with you, answers would come, and this world would cease to exist. We could return to the lives we once lived.”

_Or to whatever afterlife I was in,_ Snake thought. “What made you follow through?”

“I remembered how capable you once were.” Admiration tinged Zelda’s voice as it softened a degree. “In my eyes, with you being older, wiser, you made a lot of heroes there pale in comparison.”

“Really?” He found all of this absurd, nonsensical, and he didn’t even want to get started on the whole “hero” nonsense. He was supposed to be _dead,_ never mind being _older and wiser_. “I’m not sure I know what you think I know.”

“I trust my dreams,” she said, shrugging.

Snake ran a hand through his matted hair, settled back against the cave wall. “So, you want to take down what looks like a well-established government. Lucky for us, I have experience in that department.”

“You ‘had experience’, you mean. Before you died and left behind everything you knew. Things are different now. It’s less about toppling empires than it is about keeping ourselves alive. Here, to crave life is to defy those in power. Then again…” Zelda’s words faded, and she stared deep into the flames, as if seeking answers from the combusted wood. “Well, I wouldn’t be so sure of our chances. It could work out, it could not.”

_And in the end, we’re not the ones in control._

Snake heard the implications, but spoke nothing of it. “If he doesn’t care, why… hasn’t he done anything about you?”

She looked at him strangely, as if he had grown horns or had his skin dyed bright green. “That’s the point of not caring, isn’t it? Letting us suffer in silence under what he’s created, not bothering to step in and take care of the problem himself. No, we’re not much to him. I think, I think he’d like to say that we don’t matter to him, but he can’t truly say that if he’s keeping us around for entertainment, or for some other reason.” Zelda pulled at her robes. “If you know his methods, his secrets, he doesn’t care. That’s all.”

“Do you?”

“Know his secrets?” Zelda wrung her hands. “I wish.”

He couldn’t really say much. What was he supposed to do?

Zelda angled her head up and caught his eyes in hers. “It’s a lot, I know. Get some rest; I’ll keep watch. Maybe—maybe we’ll figure this all out in a few hours. We’ll come up with a plan.”

He looked at her, eyebrows scrunched tight. “You sure?”

“Yes. I am. And I know that nothing I say will prove your doubts wrong until I do something about them.” Zelda got up and buckled her sword back on. Casually, she pulled a knife from her belt and set it down next to Snake. “So try to get some sleep. If we’re caught or found, I’ll do my best to let you know. I trust that you’ll… take care of yourself, if something slips by me.”

She walked out of the cavern without another word, leaving the fire burning bright as Snake watched her disappear into the tall grasses of the black plain.

XxX

When he did fall asleep, it was as if he never did.

Snake felt himself doze off, and as he lost consciousness, he jolted, opened his eyes to a field of dirt and skeletal trees. He stood over a canyon; he could hear a river rushing below him, steady in its passage, fluid in its worn and beaten tracks. In the distance, the wind seemed to be screaming, howling over a jumble of lost voices, misguided souls.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. Just take it slow, old man. You’ve got the time. There’s no rush to see it all.”

Snake whirled around and was greeted by the sight of a man in tattered ceremonial robes, the shades of his clothing now worn down to a muted gray. A sash was wrapped around his waist, and a hood covered his face in shadow. His voice rang with a certain authority, a mellow gentleness that was deeply offset by his bedraggled clothes, his frail, slightly hunched form.

“Who are you?”

“Fair question.” The figure raised an arm and roughly pulled his hood back. “I suppose you should know what you’re getting into, after all.”

Snake saw bandages wrapped all around the figure’s forehead, pulled hastily over his right eye, stretching over his bony cheek and fluttering loose behind his scalp like a sort of ceremonial headpiece.

It took Snake another slow second to realize that the man’s skin was a ghastly shade of white, bleached as pure snow, pale and without a heartbeat, like a phantom given too little flesh and blood. His one visible eye was red, pierced with a white pupil and a black iris. Despite the dreary color of his garbs, he seemed to radiate a burning, hostile heat.

Snake knew, then. He readied his stance.

“Please, you’re barely alive. Try to be civil. What good can a corpse do?” The figure stepped closer and tried to look into Snake’s eyes. “Hmm. You’re moving, breathing. What a strange thing. I always figured troubled spirits would be less… animated. Seems like I could really find a use for you, with all your uniqueness.”

Snake blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” The man continued to stare Snake in the eyes as he spoke in his strange, stoic and gentle way. “I made a wish, and here you are. Maybe dreams really do come true, and maybe there’s more to you being here. So, why not come back, where you can be of more use than you are now? Where I can figure you out?”

A foreign thought passed through Snake’s head. _I’m a tool, a means to an end. There’s nothing more he wants from me beyond what I can do for him._

“But that is very curious,” the man said, and as he spoke, an involuntary shiver passed down Snake’s spine. “Very curious. There’s something about you. I mean, you really are quite troubled. What kind of life have you led, I wonder? What kind of system have you upheld, and what kind of spirits have you created in your wake?”

_I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m here,_ the mercenary thought.

Snake took a step back and nearly fell over. He turned around.

The river loomed below him still, casting a shadow upon the world above, watching. As if it were waiting for him to mess up, to take that fatal plunge, and it didn’t care either way. Whether he lived or died would make no difference.

“Is this the kind of welcoming committee everyone gets?” Snake maintained eye contact. “I’m kinda feeling put off.”

“Yes, I know you are.” The figure stared right back. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t. I mean, you’ve trudged through life as a clone, doing your best to rebel against the forces that wanted you to exist, all for their personal gain. You’ve taken the long route to find purpose, and at the cost of the lives and welfare of people you trusted.” He shrugged. “So… Why should I care what you want? Heroes have to be ready for anything, don’t they?”

_I’m—I’m not. If I were… I’d know._

“Would you?” The man leaned in closer and raised a sharp eyebrow; Snake hadn’t opened his mouth. “Would you know if you were a hero? What difference does being aware of your own actions make? It’s not like… like your kind can do anything about what you know. Sure, you say you will. You’ll try to change, you’ll do anything to feel differently about what makes you sad. Of course you will. You’re all selfish, no matter what you want to feel.”

He blinked, and red light bounced away from his prying gaze, his silent reprimands as he stood, slightly hunched, his robes fluttering about his body. Under his sleeve, he clenched a fist. “Life is sad and hopeless, yes? Life is sad for you, and it makes you angry. Well, sorry. You can’t do anything about it. I know. Stupid, isn’t it? But that’s just how it is. It’s sad and unfair and gross, whatever. I’m sure you hated it.”

_No. I—I loved it. What I had, what I ended up with. I’m not arrogant enough to deny it. I loved them. Loved him, loved the world for what it gave—_

The punch slammed into Snake’s face before he could register the sight of it. He felt something shatter under the connection, and heat gathered and bubbled into his nostrils. He staggered backwards, his eyes swimming, his hands clenched over his nose as blood dripped onto his lips, fell off his chin.

Wild-eyed, he turned his gaze back to the man who suddenly towered above him. In a daze, Snake could see a fan-like shape spread out behind the stooped, ghastly figure, globules of matter radiating outward and shaping themselves into six red and white wings.

A halo materialized above the stranger’s head, glaring white even as pieces of it came undone, vaporized by their own limitless energy. He fixed Snake in a soundless, crimson-eyed gaze, empty and serene, hollow and calm. “You’ve met people like me, I’m sure. You’ll deny it. You’ll say you enjoyed it, learned something from it.” He pulled Snake up by his neck. “Don’t waste time kidding yourself. You know what you wanted, what you wished for. If only you could move on, because getting him involved was the worst thing you could have done to yourself. Now you have a family, but what are they to do with themselves? What are your comrades-in-arms doing, after you’ve gone and made yourself their personal savior?”

Snake tried to pull himself away from that lifeless grip. He managed to choke out, “They’ll move on. They don’t need me.”

“But you loved them. Don’t they need that?” The figure gripped tighter. “Don’t they need you there to help? To love them, as you only could? Perfectly, without a thought to anything else, without mistakes? To care for them so selflessly, to fight for them without hesitation as if they could do no wrong? That’s all you could ever do. A normal life? Never.”

_No. They don’t. He’s learned so much about himself, and she’s grown too fast for me to keep track. If anything, I made more mistakes than they ever did_. _It’s better for them to leave if, if they want a better life. I’d try to give them the best I could, and maybe they hate me for it, but… They’ve moved on. For themselves._

The figure stayed silent.

“I don’t regret it,” Snake said, gasping for air. “I loved them. Maybe didn’t know… what was best, but I loved them. Loved life.”

“Fine.”

Electric heat seared into his neck, and Snake felt his lungs boil over, and he could hear himself howling, could hear the canyons below echoing his sentiments. The blackened sky flickered in his eyes, and the earth, the air was being filtered through a tunnel, distorted through a ragged, red-tinted haze. He stumbled and would have fallen to his knees had the robed man not tightened his grip with a hand to Snake’s throat.

“If you love life, if you’re all right with the hand you’ve been dealt, if you’re willing to be selfish and overcome your own misery for the sake of your happiness,” the figure said evenly, his one red eye shining as Snake’s vision dimmed, “prove it.”

With a burst of strength, Snake clawed the warlord’s fingers away from his throat, ignoring the burning in his lungs as he put distance between the two of them, struggling to stay conscious—

Magic coursed through his blood, rendering him useless, tearing at his insides, ripping a gargled scream from his throat as the world around him cut to black.

XxX

Snake awoke with a pounding headache and a sour taste in the back of his mouth.

He jerked upright, sitting with his back hunched, his hands shaking, the color red burned into his retinas as he steadied his breath, calmed the knot forming in his stomach. _Be professional. Be ready for anything_.

As he pushed air through his mouth he counted down and up, closed his eyes. He focused on the sensation of his heart beating wildly, threatening to push its way out of his ribcage. Slowly, he took the time to reach out, wrapping a hand around the comforting grip of the knife beside where he had slept.

_Bad dream, Uncle Dave?_

Like a persistent weed, the memory of that late night lingered. As much as he hated having Sunny in his room—with all his equipment strewn about, the place was an accident waiting to happen—he welcomed her in all the same. Maybe Hal, having been accustomed to his partner’s nightmares, had set her up to it, but being young and inquisitive meant that she didn’t need a particularly good or situational reason to open his door and barge in, unheeded. The world was her playground, and Snake just so happened to be there, watching, ready to swoop in and carry her off to safety.

Maybe he resented himself, despised how she had to see the empty bottles and discarded cigarette husks scattered across the floor. She was still young, but he knew better than to act stupid with her; she knew what the bottles were for.

Sardonically, Snake grinned at the memory: Sunny frowning her big, childish frown as she stamped her foot on the embers of his most recent smoke, vindictive in her cartoonish rage as she snuffed out the light. Admittedly, the kid had priorities, and she stuck to them.

He knew Sunny would be happy that he quit.

Inwardly, he berated himself for thinking about it, about them. _Even if miracles were possible, I can’t go back._ Snake could envision their pale, grieving faces, stooped low over his grave, perhaps cradling the urn that contained his ashes. Bitterly, he failed to recall what he told them. Cremation, burial; hell, did it matter? It wasn’t like his body was going anywhere useful.

The sound of footsteps pulled him back to the present, away from the morbidity of his reverie. Zelda strode in past the cave mouth and knelt by the last smoldering log. “We’re not alone. There’s a concentration of magic gathered nearby, and I want to check it out.”

Snake raised an eyebrow; despite the dull ache in his neck and chest, his strength was returning, little by little. “Poking around in everything isn’t exactly how you survive.”

“Whether it’s hostile or not, I want to know.” Zelda got up, shifting her sword to her left hip as she did so. “It also helps to have a second person nearby, no matter your willingness.”

“Fine.” He struggled to his feet, strapping his knife to his belt. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

XxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who made it to the end of this gargantuan page of text: Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you soon!


	2. Sibylline Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I still remember my first version of this story... it was close to 50 chapters, with double the amount of characters I have planned. I don't understand what my mindset was.)

The dream had shaken Snake intensely, but who was he to drop the weight of his suffering on Zelda? If his own life was any indication, she wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment. They didn’t know each other very well. This was simply business, after all. She had helped him out, and the two of them would work better together, especially if she trusted her dreams. So far, he had no reason to doubt her.

_Be professional. You owe her one._

“Snake?”

He jolted to attention. “Yeah?”

“Are you all right? We can stop, if you want.”

“No. I’m fine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, careful to avoid the burn scars alongside his cheek. “I’m… I’m okay.”

She nodded and turned to face the dark horizon ahead, seemingly lost in thought. Snake noticed that she had a slight hunch to her back, that her strained eyes were trying hard to perceive danger. He made a mental note of the way Zelda’s heavy footfalls moved, pushing her forward. Her tense figure was wired for combat, and her hands swung clenched from her sides. All this he took inventory of in a moment, and there wasn’t much Snake could do about it. “I’d understand if you want to keep going, hiding your weakness from yourself and all.”

He was about to tell her off, about to tell her that her assumption of why he fought on was wrong, when he met her quiet gaze, the sunken look in her eyes, devoid of life, silent in her anguish. Head down, he said nothing. Maybe he could confront her about it later. “I guess.”

They walked, watchful. Pits and crevasses dotted the landscape, interspersed with spiraling monoliths and obsidian stalagmites that reached into the depths of the sullen sky. Occasionally, a wind would blow, carrying with it the scent of cold ashes, burnt wood, and the metallic trace of blood.

To break the silence, Snake asked, “Zelda, who’s in charge here?”

“I thought I told you already.” She looked puzzled, her brow scrunched in frustration. Had Snake already forgotten? “I’ve never seen him in person, and the most I could piece together was his voice.”

“I think… he tried to kill me in a dream.”

“Just now?” Zelda whirled around, stopping Snake in his tracks. “When you were asleep?”

“Yeah. He wanted something from me, but I wasn’t sure what it was.” He neglected the details, put aside the stinging in his cheek, the biting cold, the pain that had felt all too real in the moment as the bloodied angel gripped his throat with an iron fist. Snake swore he could feel bruises circling his neck as he spoke carefully. “He said something about… wishing me into being.”

“You?” The princess studied Snake closely. He had the vague feeling that she was looking beyond his eyes, even. “What are you hiding?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

She studied him a moment longer, then turned away, seemingly satisfied. Brushing hair away from her thin, pale face, Zelda continued walking. “What else did he tell you?”

He kept pace with her. “That I’m selfish for wanting to be happy.”

“Funny. I’ve heard the same thing.” Zelda’s voice was hoarse. “He seemed to know everything about you, didn’t he?”

Snake said, “He thought he did.”

“He could see right through me,” Zelda said, a bitter smile forming wordlessly on her cheeks. “As if he’d been there for everything, to see me grow up, even. Watched me with my father, stood by my side as my kingdom fell to Twilight. He saw fit to call me a fool, knowing that he had all the proof of who I was, who I’d want to be as a child. Who I was destined to become.”

“You can’t let him get to you.” Snake had reason to assume that Zelda knew how to survive here, knew the ins and outs of avoiding trouble. To see her like this disturbed him greatly. “There should be a way to keep him out of your head.”

“I’ve tried,” she shrugged, her sword bouncing in its scabbard at her side. Snake wondered where she got such a weapon, in such a strange and sad place as this. She couldn’t have just found it lying around, could she? “He knows things about me that even I’ve forgotten. The details I’ve never told anyone… Somehow, he knows. Have I really been that predictable? Am I really that out of touch?”

He studied his own dagger, its hilt wrapped with simple leather straps, worn with the impression of a tightly clenched hand. As he spoke, he withdrew the blade with a deft hand, gently feeling the edge for nicks and cracks. “I don’t know what he wants with you, but he might want the same thing from me.”

“Which is?”

“To try to prove him wrong.” Snake flipped the dagger over, holding the point in front before turning it hilt-first. The knife had a hefty weight to it but was light enough to maneuver with. Unfortunately, being dead meant that he was out of practice when it came to close-quarters combat. He’d have to catch up, and quickly. “He thinks we’ll fail, which I guess is why he’s letting us try anyway.”

Zelda said, “Isn’t that philosophy dangerous? Giving your enemies the chance to fumble, knowing very well they could pull through…”

Snake was about to agree when something like a shard of glass whirled by his ear, parting the air as he moved out of the way. Already he was pulling Zelda behind a nearby tree, the whistling of the shard’s passage cutting through the lifeless undergrowth. Bark chipped away, rotten leaves fell in silence, and the mysterious blade came close to toppling the tree they were sheltered behind.

“There’s strong magic nearby,” Zelda whispered, her head low so as not to get it severed at the neck. “The shard isn’t acting on its own.”

She closed her eyes and held out her palm, the triangle embedded in the back of her hand glowing through her gauntlet. For a moment, her haggard face was illuminated by a blinding white glow, and the wind seemed to still around them.

The glass-like dagger flew at them and slowed to a stop, hovering above Zelda’s palm, ever diligent, ever patient.

A stifled yelp came from the nearby bushes, and Zelda turned wildly, sharing a concerned look with Snake. She held up three fingers, then put one down. Silently, Snake understood. He nodded.

_One, zero._

Zelda tore away the undergrowth, her sword extended. Snake stood next to her, defensive stance readied, knife in hand.

In front of them hunched a small figure, her bright pink hair entangled with broken twigs, streaked with dust and dried blood. A red bow bounced frantically atop her head as she looked up, eyes wide, mouth hanging wide open. She pushed herself further away from the pair, wishing for space, her hands torn and scratched.

There was something at her back that made Snake look twice.

Were those wings?

Zelda seemed taken aback, but not by the translucent membranes that fluttered behind the girl, ready to take off. “Are you the one who sent this after us?” She held the ensnared relic in front of her, still levitating above her outstretched palm. “For one so young, this is remarkable magic. You exhibited an astounding amount of control over it.”

The girl said nothing and merely hugged her sweater closer to her.

Undeterred by the child’s frosty disposition, Zelda continued, kneeling closer to the ground. “Did you think we were going to kill you?”

“I mean, yeah. I thought you were one of his.” The girl’s voice was lighter than Zelda expected. “But now that we’ve met, you don’t look much like it. I do know looks can be deceiving,” she added dryly, “but it’s not like he’s ever complimented me on my magic before.”

Snake was about to chime in when he felt a shadow loom over his back. At their feet, the girl’s face changed, her slight, disparaging grin melting instantaneously. “Wait, wait, they’re not here to hurt us,” she yelled to someone further away. “Call it off, Addie!”

The shadow lunged and Snake dodged to one side, Zelda to the other.

The hulking beast that lumbered in front of them had a misshapen face, with a lower jaw that jutted out far past its twisted upper lip. Its eyes were sunken, hollow, its head lit up with two intense spotlights shining from within. With a hunched back it was shorter than its full height, but the sheer bulk of the thing was enough to send a tremor down Snake’s spine. He risked a glance at its two hands, carved like a giant’s, with a grip wide and powerful enough to crush his skull like a grape within three fingers. From what Snake could see, the beast was made out of something like clay.

“Addie,” the girl on the ground warned again, calling out to someone unseen, “you really need to relax. You’re scaring me, too.”

A new voice called out, deeper than the first girl. “Okay, okay, all right. Fine, I’ll call it off.”

The beast lumbered off, and there was the sound of bark breaking off a tree nearby. As wood snapped, a blurred shape moved down the length of a tree trunk several yards away and walked closer, taking large steps until the trees no longer hid the figure.

She looked slightly older than her companion; she had a tattered red scarf around her neck, and her black hair fell in torn bangs around her tired eyes. Her buttoned sweater was ripped along the sleeves, and her skirt was covered in a dust that resembled charcoal. A satchel was slung over her shoulder, and in one hand she held… a paintbrush?

“So,” the older one—most likely Addie—said, her voice a dry monotone, “If you’re not here to kill, rob, or humiliate us, I’m assuming you want to be friends?”

XxX

“Do you wanna tell them, Ribbon, or should I?”

Ribbon, the fairy whose vibrant pink hair dye had long since faded, shrugged nonchalantly. “It doesn’t really matter to me. You can tell them. I’m kinda tired, and I don’t wanna talk about anything right now.”

“Okay.” Addie turned away from her friend, who was closing her eyes, her chin sagging wearily onto her chest as she snuggled up against a tree. “You get some rest.”

Addie turned back to Zelda and Snake, crossing her arms and generally looking very displeased. “You scared the hell out of us, y’know. Ribbon isn’t very good with surprises. Which is counterintuitive for surviving, but I think she knows that already.” She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, smearing the cheeks around them with blue paint. “Now that you’re here, I’d also like to ask where you came from and why you decided stalking us was a good idea.”

Zelda volunteered, “I picked up residuals of Ribbon’s magic, and I wanted to see what it was. She’s incredibly skilled for her age.”

“Sure, okay. But you just had to come poking around, didn’t you?” Addie let out a half-sigh, half-groan. “I hope you realize how easily snooping around can get your killed.”

“Of course.” If Zelda was put off by having a child question her logic, she hid it well. “But the concentration of magic was too large to ignore.” As an afterthought, she added, “Ribbon is a very capable magician, I can see.”

“Yeah, you could say that. Although, I’m not sure she’d call what she does ‘magic’.” Addie smiled gently, out of respect for the fairy sleeping nearby. “Anyway, I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times she’s saved me. Hopefully,” she added, “I’ve reciprocated enough. Don’t want to feel like a waste of space, y’know. Not when we need to rely on each other so often.”

“What were you doing?” Zelda moved a bit closer, hoping to ward off the chill that wedged space in between the trio, sitting in a loose circle, watching the sky above spark with violet lightning. “Why was Ribbon using so much magic?”

“There were soldiers nearby, and we wanted to take care of them.” Her answer was simple enough. “Guess it worked a little too well, since you found out where we were. It could have been anyone, but it just so happened to be you. Glad you aren’t here to kill us.”

The girl turned to Snake next, and there was a kind of haunted emptiness in her eyes. “What’s your story, old man? You haven’t talked much. Zelda’s been open with us about herself, but how about you?”

Snake had an odd feeling of discomfort. _Kids, really? In this mess? No one should be here, least of all them._

Maybe Addie wouldn’t appreciate being called “just a child”, but that’s what she was: underage, inexperienced, stuck in a sadist’s dream world, fighting shadow soldiers with what looked like some kind of enchanted paintbrush. His neck burned, reflexively remembering his nightmare. Dimly, he could see the ghastly warlord’s one red eye, boring its way through his chest, seeking what little of his heart remained.

“Um, hey, hello?” Addie waved a hand in front of the mercenary’s face. “Are you in there? Don’t tell me I scared you off.”

“No, I’m fine.” His voice was raspier than he would have liked; it made him sound older, more tired. “Zelda helped me out, and I tagged along.”

Addie pulled back, too quick to be anything but a reflex of fear. Did he really look that intimidating to her? “Oh. Okay. Um, so… Do you people know what you’re doing?”

Zelda met Snake’s eyes, lost in thought. Undoubtedly, she was debating on whether or not to share the details of her dream. “Maybe. Addie, how would you feel if I told you there’s a way out of this?”

“Out of… my relationship with Ribbon?” She looked thoroughly confused. “I don’t know what you read into, but we’re just fine. In fact, I’d much rather be with her than anyone else, if that’s what—”

“Out of this entire mess.” Zelda leaned in closer, closing the gaps within their circle. “If you’re willing to trust me, and the dreams I’ve had, then maybe this would work out. For all of us.”

Addie smiled, laughing slightly, but her eyes betrayed her hesitation. “Um, well, I’m not sure if I follow. You, you say you can figure this out, and we literally just met. How do I know you’re not in it for the long con?”

“What is there to gain from me killing you? We never feel hungry or thirsty here, so there’s no point in robbing you of your supplies. You and Ribbon attacked us out of self-defense; you knew someone was following you, so you acted accordingly.” Zelda eased up, rolled her right shoulder. “What reason do you have to not come along with us?”

“Because,” Addie started, her timid façade dropping into a low snarl, “I’d much rather stick with Ribbon. That’s it. I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“I know.” Zelda didn’t enquire any further. “But, wouldn’t you like to at least try?”

Addie snorted, tying her scarf snug around her neck. “If I wanted to actively attempt to die, I would have let you know by now. Being suicidal doesn’t help anyone here, but I’m sure you knew that already. Isn’t it enough to just wait for death to happen? But no,”—and here she threw up her hands in defeat— “you just have to go digging around in other people’s messes, because maybe that’s all you know how to do, or maybe you were bored, because trying to live isn’t exciting enough for you.”

“Addie,” Snake said, and she jumped at the sound of her name, “you said it yourself: you’re going to die either way.”

She stole a hasty glance at Ribbon’s dozing form, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, her wings flitting about of their own accord.

Then the moment was over, and Addie fixed Snake in a deathly silent glare. “That doesn’t mean I want it to happen faster.”

Snake shrugged. “If we’re paying attention, that won’t be the case.”

Addie turned away and said nothing, still looking at Ribbon, her eyebrows scrunched up in thought. “Or so you think.”

“What?”

“He’s smarter than that. He wouldn’t let you get far.”

“Who are you talking about?” Zelda’s attentiveness peaked. “Are you referring to the man with pale skin and wings?”

“I wouldn’t even call him a man.” Addie rubbed her arms and heaved a sigh. “I have a really bad memory for details, but even I could remember what he looked like when I first saw him. He wasn’t even human, he was just a big white and red eyeball. No, Zero’s… Well, I’m sure you’ve seen some of what he can do, at least. Haven’t exactly met the guy, but I think I’ve got the idea.”

Zero. At least they had a name now.

“You’d better get going.” Addie got up and brushed her skirt off. “I don’t know what the rules are when it comes to us gathered together. Maybe it’s like bait; it attracts his soldiers, or something. Either way, I think it’s better if you leave.”

Zelda and Snake rose together. Adjusting the straps for her pauldrons, Zelda asked, “Have you and Ribbon met anyone else besides us?”

“What, like… Other living people?”

Zelda nodded.

“Well, um, no. Not really.” Addie fixed her wary eyes on the Hylian. “Why? Have you met anyone else?”

“Besides Snake, no.”

“Okay, so, it’s not weird or anything. Why’d you ask?”

“Have you wondered why we’re here? Why us four somehow managed to meet, despite having never seen each other before? Surely you find that odd.”

Addie raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one who came looking for us?”

“Yes, but I was searching for magic repositories. I didn’t expect to find… other people.”

“Eh. I never really think about those things too much.” Addie settled down next to Ribbon, staring with concerned eyes at her friend. “They’re not very helpful to us surviving, y’know.”

“Tell us one more thing.” Snake stepped closer. “Do you know what Zero wants from you?”

“Um, besides letting us show how stupid and unprepared we are?” Addie looked at him evenly, and there was no emotion. “He doesn’t want us to be happy, that’s for sure.”

The moment passed, and Addie waved them away with a childish hand. “Okay, sorry for holding you back for so long. I’ll let Ribbon know, once she wakes up. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

She had made it clear the conversation was over. Zelda walked off into the trees, Snake following close by, still reeling slightly from the revelations, the odd twist in his stomach.

Once they passed well out of earshot, Zelda said, “You seem… unsure. Like something they said back there set you on edge.”

“They’re kids, Zelda.”

She looked at him. “Are you aware of what kind of person Zero is? If we’re here because of him, and if they’re here, he doesn’t seem to care who his victims are.”

Zelda took a long look at Snake. She stared past his burn scars, the tired bags that sagged on his cheeks, instead focusing on the vivid blue that seared in his eyes. Through his quiet persona, she could sense something troubled, a storm of feelings brewing over. “I wouldn’t dwell on it. Zero doesn’t seem too picky on who he’s dragged in with him.”

But still, he thought about Addie and Ribbon, then about Sunny.

That didn’t make him feel any better.

XxX


	3. Fear Without Remorse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those few that have bookmarked or left kudos, thank you!  
> (Also yeah, heads-up; this will get real angsty real fast)

They walked on in a kind of distant silence, Zelda focused solely on their surroundings, Snake lost in his own thoughts.

He berated himself scathingly. So much for keeping himself together. So much for being reliable.

Every once in a while, Snake caught Zelda looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. No doubt she had her own deep, disturbed thoughts, or that part of her was regretting having brought him along. So far, he’d slept, had a nightmare, and told someone about it. He didn’t know in what way that was considered useful, but Zelda hadn’t said anything about it. At least, not yet.

“If you want, we can take a break.” Zelda slowed her pace to a casual stroll. “We aren’t exactly on a time limit.”

Ignoring her invitation to rest, Snake said, “What were you planning?”

“If we wander around long enough for me to find a sufficiently powerful magic source, maybe something will happen.” She tossed him a sheepish glance. “If you can tell, I haven’t been this motivated in a while. I’m not sure what to do with it.”

“You were out looking for me, weren’t you?”

“Oh, the dream.” Zelda glanced away. “I remembered it all of a sudden. My present mind was focused on survival.” She looked at him, perhaps seeking to understand his thoughts and have him understand hers in turn. “Not like I didn’t want to find you. I thought prioritizing my life would be more prudent; I’d be of no use to you—to anyone, really—if I showed up dead.”

“Hmm.” Snake fiddled with his knife. “Fair enough.”

Zelda gave a small smile. “Don’t worry. We would have met eventually. I wouldn’t let you sleep forever.”

Another twinge in his chest, another taste of something sour in the back of his throat. _Maybe things would be better off if you had._

She showed no signs of having picked up on his thoughts. “If you don’t want to take a break, I suppose we can keep going. It’ll be easier on us if we take our time, parse it all out. I’m sure it’ll—”

There was a whistling of air, and Snake felt something thud into the hollow of his left shoulder. He stumbled, frozen, feeling the triangular arrowhead grate into his bone. The burning came all at once; he staggered forward and stooped over, clutching his shoulder with his good arm, speechless with the abruptness of the impact. Zelda glanced over, and her expression shifted to one of alarm; her eyes widened, her mouth opened to shout a warning.

A second arrow slammed into the glassy earth besides them, and Snake rushed for cover behind a nearby tree, Zelda following at his heels. She raised her sword and attempted to summon a flame, but Snake held her back, stifling his own discomfort. She glanced down at him, her expression one of furious determination; Snake shook his head.

“I can end this,” she said. “I can find them.”

“Hold on,” Snake whispered. “Don’t… do anything stupid.”

He reached back and pulled it out, gritting his teeth as blood flowed from the wound. All the while, Zelda looked into the trees, scanning the skeletal grove with roving eyes. The Triforce on the back of her hand gleamed lazily, and Snake was overcome with a sudden sensation of exhaustion; his eyes fluttered, the breath in his panicked lungs slowed. His mind, detached from his body, knew something was very, very wrong.

“You’re telling me,” Zelda muttered, concerned. “You might bleed out, now that you’ve removed—”

“Arrowhead was poisoned.” He began to drift off. Maybe he’d feel better with a little sleep. “Didn’t… want it to stay there.”

All at once, Zelda was facing him, shaking his good shoulder. “Hang on. I’ll get it healed. Don’t do anything rash.”

“It’s fine. It didn’t hit anything big,” Snake said, wavering, unable to figure out why he was so damn tired, or why Zelda seemed so panicked. What kind of poison was this? “It’s fine.”

He winced; Zelda had dragged a finger through the blood that seeped from the hole. There was the faint smell of burning sulfur, and his vision cleared enough so that he could see.

The blood gathered on Zelda’s glove was bubbling, oozing unpleasantly between her fingers. As he watched, a growing sense of dread building in his chest on instinct, the blood began to turn black, steaming in the cold.

“Give me a moment,” Zelda said, easing him into a sitting position against their tree, conjuring an arc of fire in her free hand as she got back up and inched out from behind cover. “Don’t do anything; the poison will spread, but I know how to take care of it.”

Zelda singled out movement in the grove, a shadow sprinting between gaps in the trees. Winding back, she transformed the flame in her hand into a spear and let it fly.

The crash of armor, the sounds of melting steel, and the inhuman scream told her that her aim was true. She heard the soldier collapse, hitting its helmet on the obsidian earth, its bow clanking to its side to lie next to its wielder. She sensed the wind carrying away its dissolving form, fading into the shadows it was created from.

She knelt next to Snake and held a hand over his burning forehead, sweat gathering under her palm. Sheathing her sword, Zelda then muttered a blessing and grabbed around on the ground for a sturdy twig. She handed it to Snake and said, “You’ll want to bite down on this. It won’t be pleasant.”

He obliged, his gaze already unfocused.

Zelda summoned a pinprick of a spark in her two fingers and pressed it deep into the shoulder wound.

Black blood leaked out from underneath her touch, and Snake howled past the small branch clenched in between his teeth. He tightened his left hand, wrapping his other shaking hand around Zelda’s wrist. Smoke stained the air between them, the smell of sulfur bringing tears to her eyes.

When she could no longer sense it, when the blood that bubbled from the hole in his shoulder was no longer black, Zelda pulled away, trembling, loosening Snake’s grip. “You’re okay now. I sterilized the entry wound.”

Snake spat out the twig, gasping for air. “You weren’t kidding.”

“About the whole thing being unpleasant? I wish I was.” She dug around in her supplies for a roll of gauze. As she set about securing it around his shoulder, she said, “I don’t have any stitches with me, so I can’t sew it shut. If the wound gets infected, you’ll know. That won’t feel good, either.”

“Can’t you… close it?”

“I can try, but there may be complications that I'd like to avoid. Magic is a fragile thing.”

Snake got to his feet only to nearly collapse onto his stomach, the bandages already stained a lurid red. Zelda caught on his way down, struggling under a majority of his body weight. She pulled his good arm over her shoulders, holding him up beside her.

“Still tired,” Snake said, delirious. “Don’t know why.”

“You did just lose quite a lot of blood.” She held a hand to his forehead, which had somehow gotten hotter since she last checked. “But you’re… you need rest. You have a bad fever.”

He nodded, sleepily. “Duly noted.”

“Maybe I didn’t burn it all out,” Zelda said out loud, attempting to keep her thoughts in order by articulating them to herself. “Hang on, I think I need to take a closer look—”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be doing that.”

Zelda turned to see a halo, shining with the intensity of a sun, burning its afterimage into her retinas. Even through the blinding corona, she could make out the form of a world-weary traveler, a sash around his waist, his robes tattered and bloodstained. The man radiated cold; yet, his voice was quiet and somehow invited a deceptive kind of warmth. “This isn’t a poison you can just burn out, my dear.”

“Zero,” she guessed, her instincts telling her she knew who he was, “I didn’t know you considered me important enough to show your face to.”

“Yes, well, things change. Life happens.” Zero adjusted his robes, the bandages around his head flapping aimlessly about. “Not only that, but you somehow managed to steal Snake out from under my nose. Talk about being selfish.”

Hoping that Zero wouldn’t hear, Snake rasped, “Don’t hesitate.”

“Snake, my dearest friend, I think it’s in Zelda’s nature to hesitate. She has to ask everyone about everything. That’s what being a queen is for, isn’t it?”

“He’s not a commodity,” Zelda returned sharply. “He’s not someone you can just parade around.”

Zero shook his head. “And that’s where you’re wrong. You see, I think I get a say in what I can do with him if I was the one who pulled him back from the brink.”

“Why is he so important to you?” The question jumped from her lips without prompt. “Why go to all the trouble?”

“I think that’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own,” Zero said plainly. He continued, “I can’t just give you all the answers. Funny of you, to assume I’m here to tell you everything about myself. Is that what people normally do, just lie themselves out for inspection, so you can analyze every single thing about who they are?”

Zelda was silent. She scanned the environment, searching for additional threats. A part of her, ravenous in its curiosity, wanted to see what Zero was capable of before engaging him. _Be patient._

In frustration, Zero threw up his hands. “Unbelievable. For all you know, you could all be remnants of dead spirits, but still you insist on defending everything life has to offer. In fact, Snake _is_ a dead spirit. Then again, you probably already knew that.”

“Then why bring him back? What was so attractive about him that you—”

“Does it matter?” Zero’s six wings spread themselves outwards, casting a wide net, cutting an intimidating figure through the empty trees. “I’m here to kill you, Zelda. That’s what you should be focused on.”

Zelda created a flame, but Zero was faster. He dashed forward, wings propelling him on, and crashed into the duo. They went reeling, Snake falling from Zelda’s shoulder, Zero screeching in a mad rage as he held Zelda by the throat and slammed her against a tree.

The dust settled, and Snake staggered to his feet, grasping his knife in one sagging hand. “Let her go.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Zero, having recovered his composure, tightened his grip. Zelda struggled against him, grasping with gloved fingers at the ghastly pale hand that was slowly, methodically crushing her windpipe and quelling the breath in her lungs. “And, I know you’ll keep trying to stop me until I do, you stubborn fool. That’s why you’re—”

Snake lunged at the bloody angel, his knife only a blink, a flash of bright, metallic motion that was aimed squarely at the back of Zero’s neck, where his spine met his skull.

Without looking behind, Zero waved a hand, and Snake’s injured shoulder seized up. He dropped his knife, all momentum lost. His chest constricted, his back arched, and he fell to his knees, blood oozing from both nostrils. When the droplets hit the ground, he saw their color.

They were black.

“Please don’t do that.” Zero sounded tired, as if he was merely dealing with unruly children. “You’re wasting your time.”

A roar escaped Snake’s chest, and he grabbed for his knife as he rose to his feet, aching to dive forward—

He’d barely made it a step when he fell back to the ground, bent over on both hands and knees, coughing up black blood and sour bile, his head throbbing in agonizingly slow pulses, his vision going double. The earth wobbled underneath him, and his bad shoulder had gone all but senseless with pain. His body was no longer his to control; he’d lost all feeling in his arms and legs.

“I didn’t think the poison would be all that bad. Side effects or allergies, maybe?” Zero still held Zelda, seemingly unaffected by the sight of the mercenary crumpled on the lifeless earth. “Personally, I feel like you’ve had this coming. I would say you’re selfish for wanting to be alive, and that it’s your fault you feel so bad. Then again, that’s a given.”

His mind numb, Snake briefly considered telling Zero that this wasn’t his choice. He’d had no say in the matter, and suddenly he was having nightmares again and reliving memories of a family that had barely been given a chance to get off the ground.

Snake wiped the residue from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet, his shoulder once more bleeding freely underneath the bandages, his knees wobbling as the feeling there slowly returned. Even still, he gripped his knife, holding it at the ready. The part of his brain that wasn’t thoroughly lost or distracted analyzed tactics: Zero knew Snake would come after him, going at his blind side, if he even had one. He’d be prepared, and Snake didn’t want to know what would happen to his shoulder if he tried a third time. Maybe he could attempt to stall, to distract Zero from Zelda’s attempts to rip herself free.

“Please,” Zero snorted. “You can barely stand. Haven’t you had enough for all your lifetimes? You don’t even need to get up; I promise I’ll be merciful. Then you can go back to sleeping forever, being dead, whatever you want to call it. Honestly, it makes no difference to me. But, if you do choose to keep this ridiculous thing going, I know how to make this work, in my favor. I always have.”

Snake tried his hardest not to focus on the fever scorching his forehead. He did his best not to look at Zelda, whose panicked eyes jolted about until they settled on his and stayed there as she gasped for air. He blinked once, twice, his breath rising from him in rapid bursts. Now, of all times, was not the best time to panic. Embarrassingly, against all thought, he felt like a rookie; he knew next to nothing and couldn’t do anything about it. 

“No. I can’t,” he said.

“Sure, you can delay this, in the hopes that it’ll work out, that you eventually win. I just want to let you know that it won’t matter very much.”

Taking a slow step forward, Snake said, “Like you’d know.”

“Well, okay. You’re free to see me as the villain. I see myself rather differently, but then again, you’ve heard that many times, as well.” Zero’s voice was still smooth, soft, as if his relationship with the people gathered around him was something born of intimacy. “But think about it, Snake, or David, or whatever you would have me call you. Whatever Zelda’s doing, you have no stake in. When you die, well, that’s normal. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing, isn’t it? Why not just let it happen now? Regardless, it’ll happen eventually.”

Then, Snake caught a glimpse of Zero looking at him, and he was grinning slightly.

If he wished for death, he’d prove Zero right; he was selfish in wanting what was best for his own good, because it would only help himself. If he tried to save Zelda, he’d still prove Zero right. If he sought recompense for the world, he’d be fulfilling his duty, giving himself meaning. Regardless of the motives or the action itself, Zero would find a way to punish him, to show Snake that he, a bumbling primate, didn’t know any better. That was just the way of it.

God damn it, what did it matter?

Delirious, Snake threw his knife and was pleasantly surprised to hear the parting of flesh, the grunt of surprise as Zero let Zelda go and reached for the dagger embedded in his side. At least he did something of use.

With one seething eye, Zero caught Snake in his unflinching, unfathomable gaze. Ignoring the woman coughing madly at his feet, the angel pulled the knife out without complaint, tossing it to the side, far from Snake’s reach. “Okay. Fine. Just letting you know beforehand, you’re going to find this next bit very unpleasant.”

Snake refused to let him take advantage of the situation. He rushed in, closing the gap between them, readying his good arm for a follow-up blow—

Zero’s left eye flashed a deep crimson, and Snake felt something indescribable tear his insides to shreds. He was howling, a primal scream leaving his vocal chords raw, the torn muscle in his shoulder aching. Snake collapsed and landed on his side, twitching wildly, all strength forgotten.

Casually, Zero surveyed the scene: Zelda rubbing her bruised throat, tears in her eyes, her coughs hoarse and weak; Snake lying prone, blood leaking through his bandages.

“Whatever all that was, about dreams, omens, and desires of something better, I want you both to forget about it. Those have no place here,” Zero announced. “Clean yourselves up, find someplace to settle down—together, separately, it makes no difference. So long as you’re out of my way, it’ll be fine.”

He approached Snake, who was bordering on a pained and unstable sleep. “And you. You’ve suffered so much, I wonder if that’s your reflex for feeling alive. In a way, that makes you the most selfish of them all. Divert their pain away from them, offer yourself up in their stead, and you attract their attention as their savior. People will remember you.”

Zero kicked forward, the tip of his boot digging squarely into Snake’s solar plexus. He was thrown backwards, his back smashed against a tree as he dropped in a heap at the base of the trunk. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Can’t have kids, so you may as well be someone noteworthy to talk about. Hero, mercenary, ecological terrorist, pariah. It doesn’t matter what they know you by, does it? Just as long as someone remembers you, you’re okay.”

Through the blood in his mouth, Snake tried to speak. His words came out as a strangled croak.

A smug grin plastered itself on Zero’s face. He leaned in. “Sorry, I couldn’t quite hear that. I guess you want me to kill you, right? To end your miserable life, to keep you dead? Fine. I’ll be nice and do it quickly.”

Snake spoke up, from the brink of something mournful, painful, and repeated his words. “It… wasn’t m-my choice.”

Zero laughed, mockingly, wickedly, and readied a spell.

He was interrupted by the sound of something cutting through the air.

From where he lay, his lower back pulsing, his abdomen battered and sore, Snake could see the outline of a small girl, wings humming as the floating crystal cut through Zero’s form just as he melted into the shadows. Snake barely saw him go; his eyes were already closing of their own volition, even as the fairy leaned over him and attempted to shake him back to consciousness.

As his vision went dark, he wondered, uncomfortably, if waking up was even worth it.

XxX


	4. Spirits Sleeping Dormant

“Zelda, it’s me. You’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

“Who… who is it?” Her voice was gravelly.

“Addie. We’re just here, doing damage control, all that.”

The queen wiped the tears from her stinging eyes, pushing air through her unwilling lungs. She could feel splinters buried in the back of her head, prickling painfully. “Addie? You, you followed us?”

“I mean, you were making an awful lot of noise, what with all the screaming and stuff that you were doing.” The painter girl gave a brave smile and provided a steady arm. “I assumed you’d need help, and you can’t exactly say I was wrong. Here, I’ll pull you up.”

“Addie,” Ribbon called, her voice trembling. “Come over here for a second, would you?”

Both Addie and Zelda looked over to see Ribbon bent over Snake, her eyes unfocused, her wings fallen still at her sides. Addie called out, “Hey, you all right over there?

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Sure, okay… I mean, what do you need help with?”

Zelda pushed herself away from Addie’s surprisingly strong grip, stumbled to her feet, and knelt beside the fairy. She tensed, preparing for the worst as she gently rolled Snake onto his back.

Her gaze settled on the veins that webbed their way up from his shoulder to his neck, spreading in a network of rotting blood. The bandages and his thermal sweater hid the worst of it; still, she detected a faint wisp of sulfur. His cheeks were flushed, in deep contrast to the lack of color everywhere else. Maybe it was a side effect of her oxygen deprivation, but she could see steam rising from his forehead, as if he were boiling alive.

“What, what do we do?” Ribbon wrung her hands, her face puzzled, twisted with worry. “Have you tried healing him, Zelda?”

“Yes, I did. There, there was some kind of poison…” Zelda found herself at a loss for words. “I thought I burned it out, but I don’t think I got it all. Maybe I was too slow.”

Ribbon shook her head, quietly amazed, captivated by the morbidity of it all. “I didn’t think it’d be this bad. Normally, the poisons his soldiers use take a few hours to set in, but this… I mean, I don’t even know what to do about it, if you said you burned it out.”

“Maybe she waited too long.” Addie shouldered in next to the two of them, practically hugging Ribbon as she said, “We need something to detoxify his blood, in that case, but I don’t know what kind of poison they used, or if the cold has something to do with it. Maybe, maybe—and I know this might be a little far-fetched—this guy’s just really bad at regulating his body temperature, or something. I wouldn’t know.”

“It’s not that.” Zelda shook her head emphatically. “I think Zero cursed him.”

Ribbon’s face turned several shades paler. “Like, personally?”

“He came to us, at random.” The queen was getting the impression that Addie and Ribbon were regretting their previous decision to help. “I think one of his soldiers singled us out after he fired an arrow, so that Zero could find us more easily.”

Next to them, Snake stirred in his sleep, coughing violently as his eyes flew open to face the darkened skies. Zelda and the younger girls backed up. Wheezing, he turned, noticed Addie and Ribbon. “Why’re you here?”

“We heard what was happening and followed you.” Addie was frowning deeply, her brows scrunched tight. “You _were_ yelling an awful lot, so it wasn’t actually all that hard to find you.”

Snake held a hand over his bruised chest and pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing hard, his shoulder still leaking blood. “It’s your loss.”

“Zero was about to kill you,” reminded Zelda. “They got here in time to help.”

He turned to the side and spat out a glob of red phlegm. “Where is he?”

“Gone.” Ribbon’s shard hovered close by, an ever-vigilant sentinel that bathed the fairy’s features in a light that radiated warmth, something comfortable and calm. “He probably used the shadows to travel away.”

Zelda resisted the urge to order Snake to tell her what he knew. He wasn’t her subordinate, and she was no longer the queen of Hyrule. Those laws had long since faded into uselessness. “He must have been keeping you around for something like research, if he wants you back so badly, Snake. He does believe we’re fragile, expendable. So… why is he so interested in you, I wonder?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Snake massaged his left shoulder, rolling it in the socket, fighting past the discomfort. “Besides, what would he even be researching, anyway?”

“He’s a sadist,” Addie said, plainly.

On its own, her answer was harmless enough.

But Zelda couldn’t help but glance at Snake, wondering how Zero felt about what her friend was going through. She wrung her hands in her lap, seemingly at a loss.

Where did this road lead?

“So, would it be safe to assume that both you and Ribbon would like to come along?” Zelda addressed Addie with a slight nod in her direction. “You did follow us.”

“We just wanted to make sure… I mean, if you lost, we were afraid we’d have to deal with whatever thing made you lose. But, we’d still be down to follow you.” Ribbon spoke for the two of them, but Zelda noticed Addie’s frown deepen even further. “We figured it’d be easier to just come while you were fighting, so we’d be working together and all that.”

Zelda stared the fairy down. “Are you sure?” 

“No,” Addie volunteered abruptly. “We weren’t looking to join you, at all. The only reason we came out here was to make sure we weren’t going to be in immediate danger once you left.”

“Whatever the case may be,” said Zelda, “you’re here now. You could turn back, or you could help us.”

Struggling to rein in his breathing, Snake nodded. “We can’t guarantee it’ll work out, but I think we’ll manage.”

“‘Manage’?” Addie spluttered, seized by a sudden coughing laughter. “You almost died to one arrow. _One_. You didn’t know what this arrow did, nor did you know what kind of poison was used to coat it, or if it wasn’t even poison but some kind of magic. Somehow, you managed to attract Zero, who has never personally shown up for anyone else here, who now knows that you’ve been weakened and can come back to finish the job whenever he wants, despite the fact that he’s had the power to end us all in the blink of—”

“Are you done?” Snake was losing patience; he couldn’t be bothered to care in his current state. “None of this is helping us figure anything out.”

“This, all of what I’m telling you, should be convincing you to stop trying to actively make him your enemy. You’re not gonna like the results,” muttered Addie, but she dropped the subject nonetheless.

Zelda leaned over, supporting Snake as she hefted him to his feet. She winced alongside him, feeling his body tense, his chest constrict with the pain. “I’ll find somewhere more suitable to treat it, flat ground, all that. But we need to keep moving, make it harder for Zero to track our location. Ribbon, Addie… If you don’t want to join us…”

“Wait, hold on,” Ribbon said. “I’ll come with.”

Addie looked over at her friend, aghast, her face pale. “No, no, no. You’re not going alone.”

“Yes, I know. Which is why you’re coming, too.”

“Oh, come on, Ribbon.” The painter threw her hands up in disgust. “So now they’re your best friends? Is that it?”

“No.” Ribbon fluttered closer, seeking to comfort Addie. “That’s not the reason. We’ll be safer, if Zero decides to come for us.”

“We won’t need it if we don’t join them!”

“Addie,” Ribbon said, smiling a sad, gentle smile that didn’t match with the glimmer of her Crystal, “it’s too late for that. We’ve helped them already, you know, and we chased Zero off. He knows who we are.”

“I mean, I’m fairly certain he always has; he’s just been letting us get away with it,” Addie grumbled, but her eyes betrayed the slightest notion of fear. “Oh, what the hell. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to join you for a little.”

Without another word, Zelda started off, balancing Snake on one shoulder, drawing her sword with her free hand.

Ribbon started after them, wings humming brightly, but Addie extended an arm and caught the fairy’s shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, I kinda wondered what it’d be like to think like you,” she replied evenly, a slight frown furrowed in her cheeks, “and I came to the conclusion that you’d join them because you could throw them under the bus instead. They could take the fall so we don’t have to.”

“Yeah, that’s a plan if I’ve ever heard one.” Addie brushed her hair back from her eyes with one nonchalant hand. “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing, wanting the two of us to survive. I mean, you don’t know them at all, and here we are, following them to our deaths like the crazy, gullible weirdos that we are—”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I mean, maybe not.” Addie glanced down at her shoes. “They seemed genuine enough. But just because we share the same enemy doesn’t mean we want the same things. If they die fighting Zero, we shouldn’t have to share the same identity. We’re in it to survive, just the two of us, y’know.”

Ribbon looked at Addie as if she had grown wings of her own. “You do realize what you just said, right?”

“Sure. Why?”

Addie saw it again: that same sad look Ribbon gave her from the corner of her eye, as if the fairy could no longer face her closest companion head-on. “It’s nothing, really. I know you don’t mean to sound cruel.”

“If it’s cruel,” replied Addie, “then that’s how it has to be.”

“And you don’t have a problem with that?”

“Ribbon, you know me.” Addie’s voice was tinged with sadness. “I don’t want what I have to be thrown away so easily.”

“You don’t want to hope for anything better?”

“Is this what you call hope?”

“I-I guess so.”

“Okay, sure. Yay for you, wanting to keep trying, asking for more.” The painter ran a hand through her hair, letting out a heavy sigh. “But isn’t living hard enough?”

XxX

“You doing okay?” Zelda tightened the new wrappings around Snake’s shoulder. “If you feel… more lightheaded, or worse than you feel right now—”

“I’m fine.” Snake gently pried her fingers away from his bandages. “You can leave them alone. I won’t bleed out, don’t worry.”

She settled back, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what is it?”

“The poison, the curse, whatever it is… I think I’ve gotten most of it out, but I’ve never seen anything like it before. Come to think of it, your situation was odd.”

“In what way?”

“I had expected a cell of some kind, but somehow, I found you trapped in a crystal, amidst a substantially dense concentration of magic. There had been an unusually large number of soldiers all congregated in your area, which I suppose makes sense if they’re guarding someone as high-profile as you.”

“Zelda,” Snake chided gently, “I know all of this already.”

“Yes, but let me get to my point.” She shook out her hair, pulling out tangles and massaging the circle of bruises around her neck. “You’re not a high-profile target to Zero. None of us are. We’re just toys he would like to come back to, but if he loses them, he knows he can find more. So, why have so many guards protecting you? Did the crystal you were trapped in have any kind of significance?”

“Hell if I know.” Snake rolled his shoulder, maintaining flexibility. He’d need it, if the last few hours hand been any kind of indication. “But that’s what you want to figure out, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Maybe if I knew how all this came to pass, between you and Zero, I could figure out how this curse works, and I’d know more about how to restore balance.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“What, the curse?” Zelda’s eyes widened. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“Be honest with me.”

“It’s… it’s just painful, that’s all.” Snake averted his eyes. “But I was trained to withstand that kind of thing, and I’ve felt worse.”

“Hmm.” Zelda relaxed, clasping her gloved hands. “That may be, but what happens to you when it does indeed get worse? When the curse somehow spreads to other parts of—”

“‘When’? Why not ‘if’?”

Zelda smiled slightly, the corner of her mouth turning upwards. “I apologize. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

Snake lay on his back in silence. Once again, he was struck speechless.

“Do you think you feel well enough to keep moving? If you need to rest, we can afford to wait.”

Addie, from under a nearby tree, snorted. “Can we, though? Can we wait for him to feel better while the rest of us get slaughtered?”

Ribbon looked over, eyes wide as she glanced between her friend and the Hylian royal. “Hey, yeah. Um, Zelda, you really don’t have to listen to anything we say. Both Addie and I have a hard time with _keeping our mouths shut_.” She glared at Addie for emphasis. “We can spend as much time as you two need. I’m more confident about survival if there’s more of us to help out.”

“No, no, Addie’s right. She brings up a good point.” Zelda met Snake’s eyes. “We need to keep moving, but I’m worried for your safety.”

“Don’t be.” Snake rose to a sitting position, wincing slightly as his shoulder convulsed. “Help me up.”

The queen extended a hand and pulled the mercenary to his feet. “You don’t need to lean on me again, do you? I find it much harder to fight when you’re using me as a crutch.”

Snake gave a wry smile. “No. I’ll be okay.”

Zelda nodded, holding her sword in one loose hand. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The four of them set out together.

XxX

The complex in front of them was a haphazard network of fallen rubble and obsidian spires that stood like towers against the violet-streaked sky. Cracks ran through the earth, venting steam. What little of the structure remained was supported by walls that crumbled even as they approached, Ribbon in the lead.

“Yeah, this is the strongest the attraction has gotten so far.” Ribbon’s Crystal twirled around her shoulders, attuned to seeking magic, thrumming with a vivid burst of energy. “Last chance to back out, anyone? Addie, are you going to take that offer?”

The artist rolled her eyes underneath her black bangs. “Keep moving, Ribbon.”

They slowly moved their way down a gently sloping ramp, taking time to weave under fallen columns and step over shattered boulders.

At the back of their procession, Zelda held her sword in front of her, flames dancing along the edge of the blade, the light contorting vicious shadows under her chin and over the ruined landscape that surrounded them. Her brows furrowed in deep concentration even as a sinking feeling entered her stomach. She had the nagging suspicion that they were making a grave error in judgment, but this she kept to herself. Spreading terror would do no one good.

Ribbon turned to the party, pointing into a hole in a nearby wall. “We could go in there, if none of you object to taking an entrance other than the front door.”

Addie shouldered by her friend and approached the ruined facility, hefting her paintbrush in one hand. “Not like the people who live here are going to care.”

She clambered over several boulders, using the fallen rock formation as a kind of staircase to reach the hole and jump through it. There was the thud of two feet landing squarely on flat earth, and they could hear Addie call out, “You’re fine. Nothing in sight.”

“Shouldn’t she be keeping her voice down?” Zelda glowered, pointing her sword into a darkened alcove, squinting to perceive possible threats by the light of the exposed blade. “We don’t know if we’re alone.”

Ribbon nodded slightly, brows creased, before following Addie through. Zelda and Snake trailed along, scanning the clearing around them one last time, weapons at the ready before they entered the ruins.

Together they took a collective moment to let their eyes adjust. Streaks of white lightning could be seen through the collapsed ceiling of the hall they had arrived through, illuminating a network of sprawling hallways that branched off into darkness. The humid cobblestones carried the cold scent of mildew, left to congregate under every hidden alcove, in every chamber that provided an offshoot to the central corridor they now stood in.

The Crystal at Ribbon’s shoulder sparked suddenly; Ribbon tensed and flinched, and Addie covered her eyes from the abrupt flash. The light was paired with the unmistakable scent of sulfur; a dull buzzing sound seemed to emanate from the Crystal’s core.

“Um, it’s not supposed to do this,” Ribbon said, bewildered. “Maybe the magic here is unstable, since it’s located in such large quantities. There’s something weird about the atmosphere, too. We should hurry.”

“Yeah, okay, so,” Addie intervened, “Ribbon and I will take one half of the hall, along with the paths on that side, and both of you”— she indicated Zelda and Snake with a nearly accusatory finger— “will take the other side. Since you can detect stuff too, Zelda, it shouldn’t be a problem. Sound good?”

Ribbon shook her head. “No, Addie. We’re not splitting up.”

“Are you worried? We’ll all have at least one person nearby, so we won’t all be split into four groups. Pairs are enough. It’s not a big deal.”

Still, the fairy looked troubled. She gazed at her Crystal, her face scrunched up in an expression not unlike frustration. “I’d rather not. I feel like something is off. It’s weird; the Crystal has never really acted like this before.”

Addie sighed, sliding a begrudging glance to Zelda. “Fine. Okay. If it makes you feel better, Ribbon, we’ll go with that.”

They proceeded down the hallway, with Ribbon fluttering at point. “Unless the Crystal acts up, follow my lead.”

The fairy rounded a corner and came face to face with a soldier of darkness, its spear extended, its eyes glowing red as it hissed and struck forward.

As fast as thought, Ribbon’s Crystal Shard came forward to deflect the blow, sparking with light. Staggering, the dark spirit lost momentum, giving Ribbon enough time to send the Shard rocketing through the soldier’s armored chest. It began to dissolve from the point of impact, screeching horribly when the Crystal tore through its back. The sounds of its dying squeals pierced through its helmet, ricocheted off the teetering walls, echoed down the halls into whatever darkness awaited them.

From the corner of her awareness, Zelda could hear the sounds of clanking armor, the pounding of brutish footsteps. She kicked the spirit’s still-melting corpse aside, partially hoping to vent some measure of her frustration out. Nothing was ever as simple as it could have been. “We need to keep moving.”

Together, the four of them moved down the corridor indicated by Ribbon, who seemed to be struggling with keeping the Crystal under control. The fairy blurted out, wings beating frantically as their speed increased from a jog to a run, “I don’t know why this is happening, sorry. I think the magic here is somehow interfering with my connection.”

“That—that has literally never happened before,” Addie forced out, her breath short. She waved her brush and summoned a hulking clay champion to stand guard behind them; already the sounds of an oncoming battle, of clanking steel reached their ears as the shadows struggled to chase after them. “Why now? We’ve been to plenty of magic repositories, yet somehow this is the one that messes you up?”

Zelda snuck a sidelong glance at Snake, who was easily keeping pace with the agitated fairy that led them further into the facility. But even as she looked, Snake staggered to a stop, leaning on the wall for support. Zelda stopped next to him, her heart pounding with the throbbing in her lungs. She stared as Addie and Ribbon continued down the hallway, oblivious to the conditions of the rest of their party.

“Go after them; I’ll be fine.” Snake’s face was pale, and his burn scars stood in stark contrast to the white pall in his cheeks. “I’ll catch up.”

“No, they’ll be all right. I’m confident they can handle—”

Without warning, Snake slumped into Zelda, and she barely caught him in time. His breathing was labored, and Zelda watched, transfixed, as black veins pulsed in Snake’s neck. Steam rose from his exposed skin.

“I swear I healed it. I thought I burned it all out, I know I did.” Zelda was at a loss.

“It’s fine.” Snake pushed himself up from Zelda’s iron grip with his good arm. “I’ll… I’ll be okay.” As an afterthought, he added weakly, “I know this place.”

“But this is the first time you’ve been here. You can’t have been; it’s… Just, it’s not possible. You were barely conscious when I got you out, and your most recent memory had been of dying—”

“I recognize it,” he insisted, forcing air through his nose, clenching his jaw. “Dunno how, just… it feels familiar.”

An inhuman screech came from several feet behind them, and Zelda turned in time to see a column of soldiers rush down the corridor. Behind the encroaching horde, she could make out pieces of shattered clay strewn about the hall, mixed with the dissolving bodies of spirits unfortunate enough to be crushed by Addie’s guardian as their comrades moved forward without them.

Zelda readied her blade, focused her attention. “Regardless, we can’t afford to stop now; we need to catch up with them or—”

Panting, Snake ignored her and ran into a different hallway than the one Ribbon and Addie had taken, leaving Zelda behind without a backwards glance.

For a moment, she was too stunned to react. Then, cursing silently to herself, Zelda dashed off in pursuit.

XxX

She found Snake standing in what looked like some sort of control room, with computer monitors blinking on and off, meshing horribly with the glass-like obsidian that had encased the modern desks and reinforced chairs in intricate crystal formations. Shelves that had once been lined with office supplies and stacks of paper were thrown into complete disarray, with some falling off their nail perches.

At the back wall sat a morass of lavender that reached the ceiling, speckled with obsidian, glowing with what could only be described as an aura of pure, raw indifference, radiating cold, sending a chill through Zelda’s blood.

“How?” Dazed, Zelda whirled about, glancing into the corners of the room, attempting to scan for possible threats. There was something about the amalgamation of technology with the magic of the world that disturbed her immensely. “This isn’t what I expected at all.”

As she readied herself for the mass of enemies that would eventually pour through the entrance, she shivered. There was something off-putting about the enchantments localized in this room’s walls, and she had the odd sensation of cold spikes stabbing through her skin, embedding themselves in her bones. The energy here was malevolent, she could tell; the shadows seemed to close ranks around them, corralling them into the center. “Snake, what is this?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” The desperation in his eyes spoke volumes, even as his voice dropped to a whisper, as he took it all in. “I’ve seen this before.”

She felt a twinge in her chest, and her heart dropped to her stomach. Her head throbbing, she said, “I can sense Zero’s magic, but he’s not here. We need to leave, now, before that changes.”

The ground shifted underneath them, and Zelda reached out to a ruined table, attempting to steady herself. She held onto her sword, and as it flared vermillion, she could see tiny shapes moving in and out of cracks on the floor at her feet.

They were maggots, squirming, wriggling and writhing with their detestable bodies and tiny hooked mouths as they crawled up the walls, inched along the mismatched tiles of obsidian and cobblestones with unpredictable greed. Zelda took a cautionary step back as the earth underneath her gave another violent shake. The smell of rotting flesh permeated the stale air, and the queen felt another pang of fear stab through her.

As she peeked out behind a corner, a shape, silhouetted by a fire that had burst to life in the hallway behind it, stumbled in front of her before falling prone and lifeless. Cautiously, she rolled it over onto its back with the tip of her flaming sword, trembling, struggling to keep her breath steady.

One human eye stared listlessly at her, the cornea white and dilute. She took in the figure’s broken legs; its combat fatigues were stained a deep crimson, and as she watched, its hand flailed pitifully up at the ceiling, seeking the light of her sword, reaching for something it could no longer have. Its neck was bent at an odd angle, the spine brutally ripped to the side. A bloated tongue lolled sloppily from a mouth left agape, the cheeks bloated beyond recognition. Saliva had crusted itself to the dead soldier’s chin.

All this Zelda registered before the once-moving corpse caught fire.

She was struck suddenly by a deep sense of pain and an immeasurable sense of loss, as if her heart had been torn clean from her chest. Whirling, she turned to face Snake, who had approached the crystal formation at the back wall, illuminated by its own interior light source. Again, she felt the pull of misery, stripping her of the benevolence, the kindness she once cherished; it took all her willpower to not collapse on the spot. “Snake, whatever you’re doing… you’re going to bring the rest of the facility down on top of us.”

He whispered something, and Zelda had to strain to hear it. “Snake?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice shook, on the verge of collapse.

He turned around and looked back at her. What she saw in his face stopped her in her tracks.

Both of his eyes had turned red.

XxX

Everything happened at once.

Ribbon and Addie rocketed into the room, seemingly unaware of the disfigured, charred body at Zelda’s feet, of the white maggots that festered and lurked on every unoccupied inch of space nearby.

“Sorry we lost track of you,” Ribbon said, breathlessly. “We didn’t know you had gone down a different hall—”

Addie swatted at Ribbon’s shoulder, and the fairy turned to her sharply. The painter girl faced forward, expression slack.

The duo had eyes only for Snake, his limbs frozen, unwilling, his gaze a lurid red spotlight as he stumbled forward towards them.

Zelda felt the air change in an instant, charged with raw malice, and she opened her mouth to shout a warning to all those gathered nearby, her panic immobilizing her—

An explosion seared from the heart of the nearby crystal core with a sound like fractured glass, ripping through the obsidian walls, shredding the desks, the fancy chairs that had been left in disrepair. Heat gathered into a cluster and rocketed outwards in a wave with enough force to throw all four of them into the adjacent hallway.

In a corner of her mind Zelda was aware of Addie hitting the cobblestone wall, dimly taking in the sickening crack that followed. She briefly noticed Snake, thrown aside with reckless abandon, tossed carelessly onto the floor.

Ribbon careened into her, and then there was chaos, the sound of rubble falling, of stones clattering like a hardened downpour, of shadow soldiers howling and baying in their primeval, ethereal language as they were buried alive by the rain.

Then Zelda hit the earth, and the impact drove all the breath from her body; she felt something in her chest snap. She skidded to a stop, and somewhere along the way she had wrapped her arms around Ribbon, perhaps, in her subconscious, trying to shield the fairy—with all her uncanny, sharp skills—from the worst of the blast. The sounds were deafening, and Zelda felt blood leak from one of her thin ears; the only thing she could make out as she held Ribbon close was the insistent, annoying rustle of static.

After what seemed like a lifetime of shaking, of rocks pummeling the earth, the dust settled, shattered pieces of obsidian clinked gently to rest, and Zelda finally regained awareness of her surroundings. Hesitantly, she opened her arms and eased Ribbon’s trembling, frail body to the side as she examined the hallway.

The realization came to her suddenly, along with the pain in every inch of her body and her broken rib, and she clenched her teeth to keep from screaming.

In front of her and Ribbon, the hallway had been blocked off by a mass of black rock, the walls having since folded in around the site of the cave-in.

Addie and Snake were nowhere to be seen.

XxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading; feedback is always appreciated!


	5. A Desperate Mirror

Addie lay on the floor, too stunned to think in a coherent fashion, much less move. To her, the quakes were ongoing, still happening; a part of her would twitch, as if she intended to get back onto her feet before a slight jolt through the obsidian earth would knock her down. Her fingers were cold, but if she focused enough of her attention, she could feel her paintbrush still loosely held in one frozen palm.

She rolled over onto her hands and knees, clenching her teeth, hissing vehemently. Her free hand strayed to where the back of her neck met her skull and came away wet; even in the dim light of the decrepit hallway she could see the reflection of red liquid staining her fingertips.

Struggling to keep her breathing in check, Addie staggered to her feet, stumbling off-center. Her feet wobbled dangerously underneath her, but still she moved forward into the darkness that coated the tunnel like a haphazard ink splash.

At once, her mind snapped to attention, and she shook the dazed cobwebs away. _Ribbon. I need to find her. We can still get out safely. After all, I owe her one. A cave-in? Is that the best Zero can do? No, I won’t let that do us in, right, Ribbon? Right?_

But Ribbon wasn’t there; Addie wasn’t stupid. She knew that.

Addie took a hesitant step forward, reeling, her head spinning wildly on its axis. She reached out to steady herself on the wall, shaking, her thin arms quivering even as she peered closer at the unsightly morass of rock and ruined building that blocked her way. If she focused hard enough, she could even see what she thought was a human hand sticking up from the top of the pile—

Her stomach plummeted to the soles of her feet, and she rushed forward, on the verge of losing balance. She wasn’t fully aware of what she was doing, like a mechanism on auto-pilot, her actions monotonous, but she knew how her hands were moving, clearing away boulders with a strength she didn’t know she had. Maybe she relied on her paintbrush so much that she had forgotten about her own physical prowess.

In another time, she would have panicked about the blood flowing from her head wound. Perhaps she’d end up unconscious or dead, but she knew she couldn’t think about what might come to pass. She simply couldn’t afford to. There were things that needed to be done, first.

The air hummed around her, buzzing insistently, throwing off her rhythm even as the shape buried underneath the rubble became clearer, even as she could make out strands of brown hair, the faint outline of an arm, the curve of a ruined, blackened shoulder.

Addie pushed another stone to the side and could now see Snake’s face clearly, laying flush against the earth, something dark leaking from underneath his hair and down his cheeks, smelling faintly of metal and coating his closed eyelids with blood.

“C’mon, wake up,” Addie said, her voice rasping, “Wake up. You’re not going to be done in by a stupid cave-in, are you? God damn it, come on!” Maybe she didn’t get everything about this weird man with an even weirder name, but if Zelda thought he was important to how things played out, then Addie would do her best to help. She’d try her hardest, and maybe that wouldn’t be enough—because she was just one person—but she’d try, anyway. In reality, she saw no other choice. “You said you’d try to fix this whole mess, and there’s no way you’re doing that in your sleep, are you?”

She wasn’t sure if shaking him would actually snap him awake, or if it would worsen the trauma of the explosion and whatever the falling rocks had done. Nevertheless, she reached down and jostled his shoulder. She’d screwed up plenty of times before; what would one more incident matter? How could helping or hurting this one person change all that?

Snake stirred and coughed up red-tinted dust, his lungs heaving, his eyes unfocused. Most of his body was visible, but he was still buried from the waist down; his right arm was pinned underneath the barrier.

“Okay, okay, wait. Hold on,” Addie said, crouching down, fighting the bile that had suddenly built in her throat. “I can try to drag you out, or I could knock the rest of the rocks away—”

He ignored her and pulled out, straining, growling between clenched teeth, but his arm would not move, and the cave-in would not give. Addie took a step backwards, facing the ceiling as it gave a slight tremor; dust fell like tainted rain. She staggered before righting herself, bent over Snake as sweat ran down his forehead.

“Stay still. I can help, but it’ll be easier if you stay still.” The words came out of her without a conscious thought. “I’ll figure this out,” she said, and against her previous judgment she readied her brush, channeling her vision into the creature she wanted to create.

Snake held up a hand, his chest rising and falling violently, nostrils flaring with crimson liquid. “Don’t, you’ll bring the roof down.”

“But then…” Addie could see the world shrinking around her, the shadows pressing and squeezing the life, the color out of the lavender crystals in the walls, the indecisive ceiling that quavered above her. “Then, then what… What do I do? Because I’m not leaving you here, even though Ribbon may be long gone, and those soldiers may still be around somewhere.”

Snake’s expression darkened; his eyes narrowed, blood gathering on his chin and on the floor around his cheek. He gave a low growl and tightened his left fist. He said, quietly, “Give me my knife.”

A part of Addie that was no longer anchored in the moment could recall the look in Snake’s eyes when she and Ribbon had stumbled into the control room, with its broken computers and technology that was so jarringly out of place. Had it just been a hallucination, or had his eyes been red, for the briefest of moments?

_Just like Zero’s, with the white pupil and all,_ she thought, disgusted with herself. _Addie, what have you gotten into this time? Now Ribbon’s been dragged into this mess and I can’t do anything about it. Fantastic. Maybe giving this guy a knife might not be the safest thing._

But in the moment, she glanced down at Snake lying on his stomach, his right arm beyond useless, and in her mind’s eye she played back his request and visualized the eventual outcome—

“Oh, no, no, no.” Addie’s eyes grew wide. “There is no way in hell you’re making me do this. I mean, seriously, you can just expect me to listen to you. We, we barely just met.”

He spluttered a laugh that erupted into a wheezing cough. “What, d’you want to do it yourself?”

She frowned, keeping her face calm, but her heart was pounding and her vision was swimming. “I won’t be responsible for this… Letting you do this, I mean. You know you’ll… you’ll bleed out, or something. No one I know would be that stupid. If the hemorrhaging won’t kill you, the shock will. You can’t just get up and walk away from that kind of—”

The look on his pale face, bruised and scraped as it was, spoke volumes.

Silently acquiescing, Addie turned to search and found it lying on the ground, the blade still keen enough to cut flesh. Addie leaned over and fumbled for it, and its worn hilt tumbled into her palm. She gave it to Snake, felt his trembling fingers close briefly around hers before she let go.

His face twisted; he reached his knife over to his right shoulder, lips shaking just the slightest bit, left arm wavering and tentative. All at once, the blade loomed impossibly sharp, flush against his skin. He brought the knife up—

Addie was about to say something, to say anything to change his mind, but by then Snake had already stabbed partway through his upper arm, and there was a snap as blood spilled and splattered, as he let out a blood-curdling scream that made Addie’s skin crawl.

She was ashamed to say she couldn’t watch. She turned her head to face the corner, doing her best to drown out the sounds of splitting bone and ripping muscle, trying her hardest to ignore his muffled shouts. Of all the things she had seen here, being grounded, having to stand by and wait as this old man did this to himself… She couldn’t take it.

The noises faded, and Addie turned back to see Snake pulling the rest of his body free with his left arm, the space where his right used to be leaking blood onto the ground. He pushed himself up, breathing hard as he stood, hunched over, staggering forward a few steps before collapsing towards Addie—

She stifled a surprised yelp and dropped her paintbrush, ready to catch Snake with both hands. In seconds, her clothing was stained with his blood. It took all of her strength to gently lower him down onto his back; he was a great deal heavier and taller than she was. “Here, just lie down for a moment, okay? Try not to go back to sleep, and it’ll be fine, I swear; just trust me, okay? I mean, I don’t know you that well, and I’d understand if you don’t trust me. To be honest, I don’t trust you all that much, but here we are, and I think we should both trust each other at least a little for the time being—”

“Addie,” Snake said weakly, “you’re panicking.”

“Yeah, I am, and I think it’s fair that I am,” she exclaimed, a burst of relief filling her chest. “But I figured if there was anything to keep you awake forever, it’d be the sound of my stupid voice telling you how I feel about almost everything that’s ever happened to me, y’know. I mean, maybe you don’t care about what kids think, but even then—”

“I’m surprised he still has room to care about anything, much less you.”

Addie turned around and reached for her paintbrush. She found it and jolted to her feet, receiving comfort in the feeling of its wooden handle. “Zero, could you, y’know, stop sneaking up on us and maybe leave us alone for longer than a day, or two, or three? I’d appreciate the space, and I’m sure everyone else would, too.”

Zero tilted his head, his halo following his movements. Sickeningly, he reminded Addie of a cat, too curious to bother killing off its prey, instead choosing to watch it struggle between life and death, flailing fruitlessly before finally succumbing. “Really? You don’t even know how to tell time here, or what a day looks—”

Roaring, Addie waved her brush and conjured a clay behemoth, its brutish, lion-like head diving forward, its vicious teeth aimed squarely at Zero’s chest.

He dodged easily, and the guardian’s attack chomped down on empty air. Zero took a casual step back as the beast turned to face him, pushing back on its legs, ready to leap. With a look of pure boredom in his indifferent features, Zero held out his hand and closed his one eye.

It happened too fast for Addie to follow, but her creation had suddenly exploded, shards of clay and dried paint burning with black fire, arcing with concentrated lightning. The smell of ashes and melting earth suffused the mildewed air as the pieces fell in a shower of sparks and tumbling debris. She could only watch, frozen to the spot, as Zero leapt through the destruction he had caused and singled her out, his six wings spread at his back. She held her brush out to block, knowing it wouldn’t do much, but she’d try her best, and maybe that was good enough for her. Internally, she berated herself for not acting fast enough, for not being able to stay with Ribbon, to keep Snake in one piece, to even make friends with Zelda because _God damn it, she was useless_ —

Zero slammed into her with the force of a train, and Addie was thrown back. She had barely felt the impact of her spine against the wall before she blacked out.

XxX

“Funny how I seem to show up at the worst possible time for you all, hmm?” Zero stood over Addie’s unmoving body, his arms folded over his chest, wings flapping restlessly. “Now, why is that? Sometimes, I wonder.”

He heard something stir behind him, and he didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “Snake, I know it’s you. Don’t do anything stupid; you’ve lost a lot of blood, and you’re going to keep losing it if you’re don’t get it checked out.”

The mercenary grasped his knife in one feeble hand, blood flowing in a constant stream from the stump that used to be his right arm. “Doesn’t—doesn’t matter.” He hated it, hated how weak his own voice was, hated this sadistic magician who liked bringing people back from the dead just for the hell of it, hated looking at the body of _a goddamn kid_ crumpled at the bottom of the wall behind Zero. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Normally, I would disagree, because this is about as bad as it could get for you. But, since you humans are so fragile in so many places, and you keep finding more and more brutal ways to horrify me… In your case, you are right. It doesn’t matter, because you’re alive now. That’s how you’ll be for the rest of your time here. You’re just that kind of a person, willing to put so much effort into everything, including denying yourself the truth for the sake of your selfish happiness.”

Snake lowered his knife, blinking his eyes to clear them. “What are you… talking about?”

Zero shrugged. “I would’ve thought it was fairly easy to figure out. Don’t you know how curses—”

Mustering as much strength as he could, Snake lashed out suddenly, the blood-soaked knife he used to amputate himself poised to pierce Zero through the eye. The rest of him that wasn’t focused on the action was anchored to the sensations of pain, and he could find no other way to describe them. His senses were dull all over, but at least he could still move, he could still fight with one arm, and Jack had once proved that to him through sheer stubbornness, on a wintry island thousands of miles away. If there was any lesson the younger generation could reinforce in him, it was to forget what giving up meant.

The world shifted forcefully around him; his vision was a blur, and when everything around Snake had settled, he found himself balanced awkwardly on one knee, his left arm held out at an odd and uncomfortable angle. Too late to act, unable to do anything about the situation he was currently in, Snake realized what Zero was attempting just as he did it; he’d seen it before, when his “father” had tried to personally teach him how the move worked—

Zero brought his own arm down on Snake’s elbow, and the resulting crack of bone tore a desperate screech from his mouth. Snake convulsed, dropping his knife from a hand that refused to be held upright, and Zero let go. He fell hard onto his stomach, coughing madly, spluttering, his breath coming in short gasps.

“I couldn’t have you going around trying to stab people,” Zero said, his tone that of a strict mother reprimanding her child. “You could get someone you love seriously hurt, but you’re no stranger to that, are you?”

Snake found the resolve to speak. “Go to hell.”

Zero laughed his insane laugh and bent over the mercenary, eyeballing his bloody stump, his shoulder that pulsated with ugly black veins. “Okay. I guess I will, since you asked so nicely.” With a merciless hand, he pulled Snake from the floor by the neck and slammed him against a nearby wall. “Did you like what you saw back there, in that room? All the gross things, the dead people? Well, they’re yours. I hope you like being kept company by a closet full of ghosts.”

Having lost interest, Zero let Snake go. He slid to the floor, half-conscious, while Zero wiped blood off his hand on his robes. “Now that that’s over, you just stay there. You’ll be okay.” The warlord turned to leave. “You might not believe me when I say that right now, but you will be. Everything will work out. Because you want it to, it will. Isn’t that how it always goes?”

Zero had taken three steps before Snake gave a tired croak. “Don’t… don’t touch her.”

“Oh. Wow. Do you sincerely believe you are in a position to tell me what to do?” Zero whirled around, and in his eye flared a sudden and explosive anger. He retraced his steps and came closer to where Snake sat slumped against the wall. “Say that again. Please. I want to see just how disillusioned you really are.”

“Don’t—”

He was cut off by the sounds of his own scream; dark magic coursed through him, and it was all he could do to stay conscious.

The pain ceased. Through ringing ears, Snake heard Zero say, “So. Does that make you feel better? I didn’t touch her, and isn’t that what you wanted?”

Zero leaned over Snake, his wings tented around the two of them, his halo illuminating the blood that cut through the grime on the soldier’s cheeks. With a caring hand he angled Snake’s chin up, catching the light, casting violent shadows underneath his torn, baggy eyes. “Initially, I hated Zelda for freeing you. How dare she ruin something so useful, you know? But then, I saw the potential for truth, the chance for me to teach you all the lesson you’ve been running from your whole lives. So, thank you, I suppose. You’ve given me a reason to care about who you are.”

Snake fumed in silence, heaving past the blood in his mouth.

“Well, if I were to leave you the way you are now, it’s not like you could… kick me or anything. I’d just break both your legs, and where would that leave you? What about Zelda, if she chooses to find you in that state? Haven’t you been enough of a burden on her as it is?” Sighing, Zero got up from his crouched position. “That’s it, I guess. If you want to lose the use of yet another limb, go ahead. I can’t stop you.”

A pulse of unstable magic set the walls rumbling, and Snake could no longer see straight; now there were two people standing in front of him, mocking his immobility, his sheer incompetence. He could feel the muscles in his body simmering, the ethereal force gathered in the room poised to rupture outwards.

The eventual explosion never came; the heat dissipated from his skin.

Zero said, “I suppose the volatile energy here really caught you off guard. But, I’ve said plenty; do your own thing.” As he turned to leave, he said, “I know you said you didn’t want this, but maybe it’ll make you feel better if I take her instead of you. Then you’ll actually have a chance at life.”

_No,_ a voice in Snake’s head muttered; even trapped in his own mind, it barely sounded like him. _You don’t have the right to look at her, much less touch her. She’s just a kid._

It took a moment for Zero to register that Addie was no longer there.

“I know you’re still here,” the warlord called out. “Don’t be ridiculous, Adeleine. Hiding won’t do you any good, do you understand? This is how it’s meant to be. I’m supposed to be the bad guy, and our differences prove that you are all good people, solely because you are not me, because you want this story to turn out well for you. It’s not that hard to see, is it?”

No response.

His voice turned sour. “If you don’t come out, then I guess I’ll have to find someone else to punish for your lack of cooperation. Then you’ll finally be able to blame yourself for getting everyone else killed, just like the self-pitying part of you always wanted.”

The room was silent save for the sounds of Snake’s pounding heartbeat, his labored panting.

Zero sighed. “Oh, well. I’ll find her, I’m sure. If not, there are plenty of other things to keep me busy.” Looking down at Snake’s battered form one last time, Zero murmured, “But you, my clueless friend… As much as I need to make an example of you to tell them what I mean, I think I’ll let you live a little longer. After all, suffering breeds character, and you want to be a good person.”

When Snake blinked, Zero was gone.

With his next blink, he was gone, too.

XxX

Snake woke slowly, his eyes refusing to stay open for long, his body unable to obey.

He first saw Ribbon sitting beside him, her expression laced with pained apprehension, her eyes shining. She was whispering across him to Zelda, who for some reason had his numb left arm in her two shaking hands. The Hylian’s face was ghastly pale; Snake could see her speaking, making words with the shape of her mouth, but he heard nothing. There was no doubt in his mind that Zelda was trying to comfort him, but he wasn’t sure what he needed comforting for.

His hearing returned, slowly, and he could make out Zelda’s strained voice as she said, “I mean—I don’t know how you haven’t bled out yet, Snake, but focus on me. Focus, you’ll make it.”

Zelda closed her eyes and muttered an incantation under her breath, but Ribbon placed a hand on her shoulder. “Wait, wait. Zelda, are you sure about this? There might be some side effects with the healing, and he might not be in the best shape to—”

“I’m a little busy right now, Ribbon.” To Snake, Zelda said, “I know you won’t like it, but I’m setting the bone back. With all the unstable magic around, and whatever curse is inside your shoulder, this will most likely hurt a great deal.”

As an afterthought, Zelda added, her voice tinged with sadness, “I’m sorry you have to be awake for this.”

She concentrated, and Snake had the feeling of boiling alive.

The agony defied all reasonable description, but his vocal chords simply refused to let another scream pass his lips; what got past them was a strained growl, his whimpers getting the better of him. It was nigh insufferable, but still, Zelda held on. A part of him that he could no longer control tensed up, and it took all he could muster to keep breathing.

It seemed to last a lifetime, but Zelda finally drew away, gently letting his now-repaired arm fall to his side. “You’re okay. You’re fine. Wait a few moments and you’ll be able to use your arm without consequence. I wasn’t able to completely heal the arrow wound from earlier; it’ll scar, but that’s it. I’ll need to stop the bleeding and bandage up your… other arm.” _Or what’s left of it_ , she thought. “I have questions, but those can wait. We can rest; you need the time to—”

Snake grabbed for Zelda’s wrist. “Not here. Somewhere else.”

“Your arm isn’t going to feel better unless we stop the bleeding, somehow.”

He dragged himself against the wall, leaning into it as he stood up, his left arm trembling as it supported his weight. He counted four seconds before he sagged back onto the floor, his skin simultaneously feverish and frozen. “I’m fine.”

Zelda pursed her lips in quiet disapproval. “No, you’re not. You wouldn’t want it to get infected, and the wound is still open.”

“It won’t.” In his current state, he didn’t know how he was so sure. Wistful thinking, maybe. “It’s—it’s fine.”

“Snake,” Zelda said, her voice harsh, yet her eyes betrayed her anxiety. “We need to fix it. I don’t care how unstable the magic is here; I refuse to let you bleed out. You of all people should know how dangerous blood loss is. Please, just sit still for another minute. If they come, they come. But at this rate, you won’t last much longer.”

Without waiting for his reply, Zelda reached over and placed a gentle hand over the exposed muscle and bone marrow. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brows.

Tingling darts speared through the blood-encrusted stump, moving like arcs of electricity. Snake shivered, grimacing, an unpleasant prickling working its way down from his abdomen. Vaguely, he could feel the flesh at the edges of the wound being sewn together, even as more sparks thawed into his bruised skin. He was no longer sure of where his arm ended and where the open air began.

After several breathless moments, during which Snake’s discomfort continued to rise, Zelda removed her hand. She seemed calmer, and her respiration had settled into an even, easygoing rhythm. “Okay. It’s closed. There may be complications, so I’ll wrap it, just in case. If it starts smelling odd or rotten, let me know.” As she began tying gauze around her handiwork, she added, “You know, it’s a miracle you aren’t dead. When I—when we—saw the blood, and you just… sitting there…”

He gave a noncommittal grunt. The nerve endings in his arm had been severed, but he could’ve sworn he felt something like the sensation of touch in his missing fingers. “It’s happened before.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Zelda replied almost immediately. “But you need to be careful. I know very little about you, but Zero… You’ve never really dealt with someone like him, that much I can tell.”

He gave no reply.

Ribbon chose the moment to pipe up. “Where’s Addie?”

Snake shook his head. “Gone.”

The fairy’s skin turned three shades paler. “You, you don’t mean… She’s not dead, is she?” Ribbon let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, she can’t be; she’s not here and we would have seen a body, if she were here, and if she were dead.”

“She was gone before Zero got to her.”

“But you saw her, alive, right?” Ribbon turned to look at Snake, eyes wide. “She’s here somewhere, I know. All we have to do is find her. We just have to work as a team, and we can find her—”

Zelda interrupted, “Ribbon.”

“Maybe we can try to dig out a little more rubble. Then we’ll find her, I’m sure of it, but you guys have to help me look—”

“Ribbon,” Zelda said, placing both hands on the fairy’s delicate shoulders. “We’ll find her. We just need to focus on the present. If we can’t come together right now, we might as well not plan for the future. There’s no sense in finding Addie if some of us end up dead by the time we get to her, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Ribbon wiped her running nose on her sleeve and nodded quickly. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re worried.” The queen sat back, staring at the ceiling in soft trepidation. “As much as I think we need rest, we can’t stay here any longer.” She got to her feet, grunting as she adjusted her robes, and reached a helping hand to Snake. Leaning over, she threw his one good arm over her shoulders and pulled him upright, feeling his body tense with the strain of it. She was glad she had already healed her broken rib, or this effort would have been much less pleasant. “Even if we haven’t figured anything out, we’re alive, and that counts for something.”

“Really?” Ribbon seemed shocked. “I would have thought that, out of all of us, you’d be the first to get it, Zelda.”

“Do you?”

“Not really, no.”

She stared at Ribbon. “Let’s leave it at that.” She then turned to Snake, draped as he was over her shoulder, and spoke. “If you were wondering how we got past the cave-in, we took a detour.”

Snake only nodded. At this point, he didn’t care about how they got to him. He owed both of them. “That the way we’re taking out?”

Zelda nodded. “Ribbon, you fly on ahead, do some scouting. We’ll catch up; Snake here will probably drag me down.” She gave a sheepish smile. “Don’t worry, we’re right behind you.”

“Don’t fall too far behind, you two.” Ribbon zipped ahead, managing to get in the final word before she faded out of earshot. “Just because you’re old doesn’t mean I’ll slow down for you.”

When she was gone, Zelda turned to Snake, and her voice was cold. “I know what that was.”

“Really?”

“No sense in getting Ribbon to not trust you, too. She’s been through enough as it is, with her being so young. You don’t deserve this, either, but someone has to tell you.” Zelda seemed a million miles away. “This feeling of knowing doesn’t give me any satisfaction, but I don’t have any other alternatives.”

“If… If I had the answers, I’d tell you.”

“Don’t worry, you have other concerns.” While not inherently hostile, Zelda’s words sent a shiver down Snake’s bruised back. She ducked her arm away and turned to maintain full eye contact, and Snake had to readjust his weight onto his own two feet so he wouldn’t fall flat on his face. “The corpse, the explosions, the maggots. You’re the only one I know among us who has previously endured the kind of trauma that could be given that specific physical form, with enough magic. I never even knew that kind of synergy was possible.”

“Zelda, I swear, I don’t know anything.”

“Your eyes turned red, same as Zero’s.” Her glare was inescapable. “Even if you thought you had an answer or a solution, I still wouldn’t trust you. Being paranoid has kept me alive, and maybe you could have related once, as well. How does it feel to be the one responsible for tragedy?”

“Do you want me to say the explosion was my fault?” His forehead was throbbing, and he found it hard to focus on Zelda’s features. “If you want to suspect me, fine, go ahead. I had nothing to do with it.”

Zelda pinched the bridge of her nose, her left eye twitching in short spasms. “Snake. The crystal core, the magic waves, all of it… it shared your same energy signature, mixed with Zero’s, and his soldiers. That was you.”

XxX

Snake froze. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Zelda turned away. “I’m assuming that’s why you were so suddenly drawn to it, and why the magic here only reacted violently when you got in range of the crystal beacon. I don’t mean to pry, but the anomalies that began to manifest… you’ve experienced things like that before, haven’t you? Moments from your past life you simply couldn’t forget?”

He was struck dumb. “Zelda, I—I didn’t know.”

“I never expected you to. But, seeing it now, fitting it all together, it’s kind of sad.” She laughed mockingly. “I thought you were someone I could trust. And yet, I’m seeing traces of your own life force in the very things I’ve sought to destroy. By no fault of your own, Zero has successfully made me lose faith in the people I have surrounded myself with. Maybe it was selfish of me to try to have confidence in others, thinking I could ever find safety with anyone here.”

The mercenary could relate all too well, but he knew Zelda wouldn’t want to hear that from him in the present moment. He saw how little his words would mean to her. “Are you regretting it?”

“Regretting what, exactly?”

“Finding me.”

“No one told me this would be easy,” Zelda said, refusing to make further eye contact with the ghost of a man standing in front of her. “I wouldn’t have been surprised had the outcomes not been as… favorable. Even so, I trust what my dreams tell me. I trust that if I follow the events they described, I’ll find the answers I need. Maybe then we can finally be of some use, and my regrets may not matter.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

Zelda couldn’t say the words, but the look she gave Snake said plenty.

Their strained silence broke apart when they heard the light flutter of wings. Ribbon had reappeared in the hallway. She peeked her head around the corner, feigning annoyance. “Before I left, I should’ve asked what you considered as ‘right behind you’. You people are as slow as can be.”

“We were just taking our time.” Zelda smiled, and walked forward without another glance at Snake. “I guess you didn’t want us to worry about you.”

Ribbon rolled her eyes, keeping pace with the queen. “Okay. Yeah. You believe what you want. I just came back because I thought you needed help, or something.”

For the briefest of moments, Zelda stole a backwards glance at Snake and barely inclined her head, as if questioning his motives. _What will you do next? Now that you know a little more about who you are here, where will you go?_

He wasn’t sure if even he knew.

XxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (From here on out, things get a little sadder.)


	6. Of Hearts and Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Thank you to everyone who has left a bookmark, kudos, or comment!)

Ribbon flew point, her Crystal whirring vibrantly. “So I guess you two will help me find Addie, since you’re sticking around. I figured out how to use the Crystal Shard to hone in on her energy signature, and it should be able to track her from far away.” She gave a forced laugh as she fluttered on her transparent wings. “I guess, if her signature disappears, then we’ll know, but that doesn’t mean something bad has happened. Maybe, maybe she’ll go out of its range, and all we have to do is catch up.”

Zelda knew Ribbon was rambling, but what right did she have to tell a child to stop? “I guess. We’ll go where you go.”

The fairy nodded, and the bow in her pink-dyed hair bobbed along. “Okay, that’s really nice to hear. Let’s just... go this way.”

The Crystal had veered sharply to the right, where it zipped into a forest of charred trees stripped bare, leaving a faint trail of light behind it. Bushes parted, and the undergrowth rustled with some arcane, disturbing secret as the trio pushed their way through.

They went deeper into the forest, and Zelda fought the urge to ignite the whole mess and be done with it. To distract herself from channeling her anger, she asked, “Ribbon, how did you ever come across a relic as potent as your Crystal?” Internally, she wondered how someone at such a young age could be so proficient at controlling powerful items and honing in on magical energies, but the fairy had been through enough. There was no sense in bogging her down with more questions than necessary.

“Oh, well, I used to be one of the attendants of the Fairy Queen. She’d ask us for favors and such, and one of our duties was to guard the Crystal. There was an invasion of some kind, I think.” She hummed, “Thing’s got bad, so I had a few friends help out. But, it’s weird; I don’t really fully remember who they were. Normally my memory’s pretty good when it comes to stuff like that.”

“You’ll remember later, I’m sure.” Zelda kept her hand on her sword, face twisted into a grimace as her robes caught on a low-hanging branch. She tore herself free and said, “You’ve had other things on your mind. It’s only natural to forget.”

“Addie was one of them,” the fairy added. “I guess that’s how we first me, but beyond that… I’m not sure.”

But still, something about Ribbon’s forgetfulness raised suspicions in Zelda’s head. An invasion sounded like a noteworthy event, and if she had risen above it with powers to rival any prolific magician, then surely, there was at least something she could recall that was of note.

Zelda fought back a wry smile. Here she was, being paranoid of a child. In any other situation she would have laughed at the notion, the mere absurdity of it all. From what she could tell, Ribbon meant no harm.

_Even so_ , she thought carefully, _isn’t that the way of things? Regardless of whether or not people mean it, it’s not difficult to make life hard. Out of purposeful negligence, ignorance, true and unbridled hatred… Life takes all forms._

She stared next at the man who traveled alongside them, a foreign body in a landscape full of unasked questions, and wondered. There were a host of things Zelda wanted to ask Snake; she knew of his combat expertise, his years of accumulated wisdom, and yet, she felt as if he were still a stranger. Even when the magic swirling around them was no longer as potent or unstable, she could sense the sadness that weighed him down, something in his tired frame that gave his innermost doubts away. Inexplicably, she felt it weighing her down, as well; now, whenever she read into his aura, she took on a fraction of the great, intangible burden he shouldered.

If Snake noticed the queen staring at him, he didn’t bring it up. He cut down a thicket of brambles that had ensnared his ankles, and Zelda could plainly see that, despite all her efforts at healing him, he still winced as he bent over, his missing arm still an unfathomable void. She tried her hardest not to focus on his left shoulder; if she squinted, she could plainly see black veins crawling their way up through his neck, leaking into his cheeks, or perhaps meandering their way deep into his skull. Shivering, Zelda turned away.

All at once, the ground slanted downward, and they could hear the sounds of running water. Through the lifeless trees weaved a gentle river, its banks a great distance apart, the currents lapping pleasantly at the worn and pebbled banks.

Ribbon stopped at one end, her teeth trembling. A cold mist radiated off the water’s surface in lazy spirals. “The Crystal is telling us to cross, but the river itself… There’s something about it that doesn’t feel right.”

A flash of light in the distance made Zelda glance twice. “Look. Upstream. Did you see that?”

“Um, no.” The fairy looked around, every grain of earth falling under heavy suspicion. “What was it?”

Zelda was troubled. “I don’t know.”

Directly across the water’s edge, there was another burst of radiance. For a fleeting second Zelda saw through it, the way one would see through a window kept in pristine condition; through the viewing pane she could briefly make out green canopies, weathered trunks reaching into a rosy pink sky laced with fluffy clouds, and a rustling field of tall-reaching grasses extending far into the horizon.

The vision was gone as soon as it had arrived, and the light dissipated into white sparks like heavenly snow. “But everyone saw that, right?”

“It… it looked like a portal of some kind.” Ribbon tightened the bow in her hair, still shaking from the tomblike chill. As they stood, indecisive, more flares burst into being around them, glimmering in the backdrop, accentuating the tenuous shadows. “Maybe Addie went through one, or something, once she snuck out. I mean, which one do we take? They’re only around for a few seconds, and that’s barely enough time. The Shard still says we have to cross the river, and I’m not even sure how deep it goes.”

“You could just fly over it, Ribbon.”

“I know,” the fairy said, frowning. “It’s just what I’m sensing in and around it that’s setting me on edge.”

Zelda turned to the mercenary standing next to them, leaning casually on a winter-weathered tree as he fiddled with his combat knife in his left hand, its blade glinting as it flipped end over end, only to land safely in its owner’s grasp. “Snake. I know it’s a lot to ask of you so soon, but do you feel all right to swim?”

He shrugged. Zelda was astounded to see how little the events prior had affected his cavalier attitude. “I’ve never had to swim with only one arm, though. It’s worth a shot.”

“Are you sure?”

Focusing his glare into the depths of the river, Snake took a moment to consider it. “What other choice is there?”

“We could keep walking upstream,” Ribbon interceded, “and try to find a source, where the water comes from. If we can do that we’ll know where it ends, and we’ll be able to bypass it there. But I don’t—I’m not sure how long this goes on for; it could be ages before we find somewhere dry for us to cross over.”

“That’ll take too long.”

“Yeah,” the fairy agreed. She snuck a sidelong glance at Snake’s missing arm, mouth partway open, the intent behind her words building. Her thoughts were lined up, but she refused to give them a voice. “Okay. Well, here goes.”

Ribbon was about to begin the crossing when a mass of shadow rose from the deepest stretch of water and hovered in place. It dripped viscous ink, drooling, towering above the surface. With a low rumble, the mass changed, first forming into an amalgamation of lumps and various materials before settling on the nebulous curvature of a sphere. The murky substance parted in the middle, and an eye was born in the gap.

It widened, and a disembodied voice rang out around them. “Hello, there. Would you like to cross the river? Or have I appeared to stop you from doing nothing, and you weren’t even planning on going this way?”

“I recognize that,” Ribbon whispered, shying away from the riverbank. “That’s… That’s Dark Matter.”

“What? Why are you so surprised? You mean to tell me you’ve forgotten what we look like? We’re all that’s here, Ribbon. Whether in this form, or as soldiers, or… something else. I’m shocked.”

“We, we got rid of you. All of you. When you invaded, we—we were there—killed you—”

“Oh. You do remember me, then.” It betrayed no emotion, showed no pulse. In an ageless baritone, it called out to the party gathered before it. “With all the rules Zero has broken, I am both pleasantly surprised and a little upset. What has made you forget so many important things in your life, fairy? Surely there’s something valuable there you’ve clung to over the years.”

Ribbon summoned her Crystal Shard. Like a guard on duty, it hovered by her shoulder and burned with the fury of a towering beacon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What rules? I—I don’t even know… Where did you come from?”

“Is that really the question you felt inclined to ask?” Had the creature in front of them carried visible eyebrows, it would have raised them. “I never would have thought of you to be the one asking terrible questions, Ribbon. You became a steward to Queen Ripple for a reason, and it wasn’t your ability to think on useless things. Does it matter where I came from, where Zero? We’re here, now, and that is all that should concern you.”

“Let us past you,” the fairy called out, trembling. “We don’t want to have to fight.”

“Why not? I know how much you all hate Zero, and with good reason. You could always kill me, deplete him of his resources, all that. Although, I would suggest not being so hard on him for being a vicious person. He’s just doing what he thinks is right, and his definition of right is to prove you wrong.”

Zelda stepped in, her face twisted in an uncharacteristic snarl. She didn’t have to hide her suspicion here, not when the enemy was so clearly lurking in front of them. “Then, unless you’re Zero, we kindly ask that you get out of the way.”

“You did ask nicely, so I will consider it.” The being hummed, its low bass register sending spiraling ripples over the water. “I suppose Zero has never done that to you, which immediately makes you better than him, doesn’t it? Now you can boast about how nice you are, considering the feelings of others before your own. You’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Are you going to let us aside, or not?” Zelda’s patience was running thin. “To be frank, we don’t have the energy for this.”

“I suppose that makes you feel good, too, admitting your flaws in a world that you believe considers itself perfect. Asserting yourself, knowing your limits. To ground you, I guess; make you feel more… connected. That way, you know you’re still a walking, thinking person.”

Zelda sighed to herself, in the manner of a bedraggled, tired caretaker. There was the sound of whirling wind and a burst of heated air; the flames along her sword coated the riverside in a blinding blanket of warmth. “I hope you two don’t mind what I’m about to do, but we need to get moving.”

She waved her arm. Like a jet, an arc of flame curved from the unsheathed blade, whistling as it slid through the Dark Matter’s eye, steaming and sinking into the morass of inky mud that began to melt in front of them. It crumpled into the river, flowing back into what it came from. When the last pieces had fallen beneath the surface back into running water, when the entity’s mocking words had dissipated into the quiet, soulless wind, Zelda’s flames went out.

Ribbon shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on her Shard. It lingered at her side, pointing insistently at the other bank. “We can’t cross. I don’t know what that was, but… I just don’t want us to. I mean, we’ve—we’ve had enough trouble as it is; let’s just walk upstream and find somewhere safer, maybe, where the river narrows, or something. We don’t have to be right next to it to stay on track; we just have to follow the sound.”

Zelda was pleasantly surprised at the young fairy’s poise. “Well said.”

“I mean,” Ribbon said, gesturing with her hands to the water, “I don’t think any of us wanted to see how badly that could’ve ended. No one wants a repeat, right?”

They agreed, retreating back towards the hollow forest.

XxX

_What they haven’t noticed is you, my friend, losing your grip on reality._

Snake, out of habit, reached for his gun at its holster on his right hip, realizing too late he lacked both a firearm and a means with which to hold it. Besides, what was he to do, if he even had one? Shoot himself? Neither Zelda nor Ribbon would appreciate looking at his holed-out brain, blood and viscera scattered over a landscape that was depressing enough as it was without being covered by his insides.

Instead, he clasped his knife tighter in his left hand, resolving to make as small a scene as possible. He was already on Zelda’s nerves, and he didn’t blame her. How could he, when none of the things he had done were of any greater use to the team? No doubt she was losing sleep over him. _Figures. They can’t really hear you, can they?_

_Don’t get uppity with me._ The voice cackled, and the noise reverberated on the insides of his eardrums. _You know what you’ve been through was rough, even for you. You know you should be long since dead. All that blood lost, just… gone. And yet, here you are. You’re just fine. In fact, I think you’re better than fine. You’re ready to murder something, aren’t you, to finally prove that you can indeed kill just like the best of them. To commit yourself fully, doing what you’re good at… You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I mean, I’d sincerely like to know what you think. Really. I do._

Clearly, it was a barb, meant to provoke him. _Say what you like. I do what I have to._

_To what? To be useless?_ The voice in his mind seemed frustrated. Its tone rose to a creaking shout. _You’ve done nothing! Claim to struggle for the sake of personal choice, do you? You fight on, so you can “let the world be”, so when you finally do die, you die happy, like the selfish old man that you are. Well, in that case, I find it odd that you can even consider yourself whole. You’ve done even less than die, in my opinion. You haven’t even bothered to fight. Look at you, holding back so other people can take the credit. How kind. How funny._

Snake ignored the presence rooted in his skull, instead choosing to focus on the rhythm of Ribbon’s bow as it flapped in tandem with her iridescent wings, or on Zelda’s hair, weaving in the timid breeze. He eyed the grasses, their stalks bent, poking in misshapen clumps from the glassy earth. Monotony was fairly simple to hone in on; he could clear his thoughts with well-practiced ease, at least for the moment.

_Tell me this, then_. The words were daggers, aimed square between his eyes, sharp enough to induce a piercing migraine. _Do you feel as if this world personally has it out for you? Well, maybe that’s because it knows you well, like how you know the back of your hand, or something._ _Kinda hits close to home, doesn’t it, after that whole thing with Zelda? What was with that, anyway?_

The ground began to slant upwards, and Snake concentrated on the climb. If his inner thoughts had developed their own arrogant, selfish personality, fine. He’d make it work.

Thinking back, he remembered losing feeling, the sensation of movement in his hands. He could visualize the room with the crystal core, where the faint chill of metal and computer screens crusted over with dust and obsidian growths evoked a time that felt all at once like home and yet was still something to leave abandoned, hidden deep in his recollections. There was a brief moment, he could recall, where at one point he had been facing away from the group. The next moment, he had blacked out, and upon regaining consciousness, had turned his back to the core. An isolated corner of his memory could reshape the rest: Zelda’s face, lined with unease; Ribbon and Addie standing together, eyes wide.

Zelda had said the core’s energy resembled his own, albeit amalgamated with something closely resembling Zero’s aura. Perhaps he didn’t understand all of it, but her words did not bode well.

The slope deepened, and Snake could hear the trickling of the river as they ascended above it, the gurgling over rocks fading softly. A cliff rose astride its banks; the trio clambered across its top, the Crystal still diligently guiding their way, a hanging lantern floating at Ribbon’s shoulder. If there was peace to be found in any part of this, he could see himself finding it here.

They stopped, and Ribbon held an arm out, one hand tight over her chest. “Sorry. I need a moment to rest. Flying is a lot of effort.”

Zelda nodded. “Take your time.”

_Wouldn’t you like to be as happy, as… acquiescing as them?_ The voice, back with fervent vigor, had taken on a dangerous edge, an undertone that spoke of violence and an unknown kind of darkness. A low rumble built in the back of Snake’s head; vertigo had suddenly overtaken his sense of direction. _Wouldn’t you love it if you could take it slow? Even better yet, wouldn’t you like that sense of connection? I would apologize, but you know what I am about to say already._

_Which is what?_

_So long as you are here, so long as you are aware of what your life has given you, so long as Zero knows who you are… You won’t find it._

Ribbon took a deep breath, her wings snapping to attention. “Okay, I think I’m good. Let’s keep going—”

She had barely finished her sentence before Snake lunged past her, knife buried in the head of a Dark Matter soldier. It howled, thrashing in its final moments, dropping its weapon with the clang of metal. Snake pulled back, his dagger flashing. He whirled around as the others snapped to attention, scanning for other threats. “Guess we have less time than you thought.”

Zelda smiled harshly as she saw an enemy archer scurry into the trees, watching its motions with extreme prejudice before sending a bolt of fire out to meet it. “I suppose you’re right.”

Ribbon turned her attention to another swordsman closing the distance between them, and a second later, the Shard spiraled through its neck, pushing it over and down into the ravine. Her eyes narrowed onto a warrior emerging from the undergrowth, its axe pulled back, ready to strike. A brief moment passed before the Crystal punched into its breastplate and out through its back, the force knocking it back into a tree where it sank to the ground, violet mist swirling away from its dissolving corpse.

The fairy spun in time to see a spirit bring its sword down on top of Zelda, the keenly honed edge slicing her abdomen. She gasped, staggered, held up a hand to block, and launched a flame with a burst of vermillion radiance. The blast seared her assailant as she collapsed; smoke rose from underneath its helmet, its piercing howl echoing, clanging against discordant metal. A new one took its place, leaping over its fallen fellow and bringing its hammer overhead, intent on crushing the queen beneath its brute force—

It never got the chance. Snake reacted with uncanny speed, putting himself between Zelda and the ethereal warrior, bringing his knife hilt-deep into the enemy’s chest, momentum driving it wholly onto the blade. Casually, he shrugged the dying soul off to the side and met the next charge head on, snarling. Somehow, he managed to put the shadow soldier off balance, throwing it to the ground in a vicious arc of his remaining arm. Its back cracked as it met the unyielding earth; even above the cries of otherworldly shades and the sounds of moving feet, Ribbon could hear the armor-plate fracture.

Snake rose from his kill and made eye contact with the fairy, scowling. He cried, “Focus, Ribbon!”

She twisted around, let out a surprised gasp, and jabbed her Shard forward, splitting the skull of another shadow wide open. A substance like black oil oozed from the point of impact, the droplets scattering in midair. Its helmet dropped alongside its body, coming to rest with a final clink, signaling the last of the opposition.

“I’m fine,” spluttered Zelda, lying on the ground as she grasped her stomach, blood leaking between her fingers; Snake and Ribbon hastily crowded around her. “I can heal it, it’s fine—yes, Ribbon, you can stop worrying about me; I’ll be all right.”

“The cut’s pretty deep,” Snake said, no stranger to keeping people grounded in the reality of the moment. “You’ll need to get that patched up soon.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Give me time to fix it. Just give me space. It’ll be all right.”

A new, yet all too familiar voice called, “Oh, I don’t know about—”

Acting on instinct and impulse, without even a first glance, Ribbon launched her Shard behind her; the sound of a low, painful grunt was confirmation of her accuracy.

Then there was the rustle of dead grasses and the heavy footfalls of reinforcements, corralling the trio into a tight huddle.

Ribbon mustered the courage to look. Hadn’t they been through enough?

Zero held a hand to his upper arm, bleeding freely. “That was actually very cool to see, Ribbon. You reacted well, with agility and dexterity. Yes, I too can hand out compliments. Maybe you didn’t know that about me, but I assure you, it’s true. It doesn’t take someone special, someone noteworthy for their compassion to do so.”

She could feel Snake freezing up next to her; she wanted to reach out, tell him how they would get out of this, but she kept her silence and brought the Shard around from where it had first pierced Zero’s skin. As fast as thought, the Crystal carved a new trajectory, this time with its ultimate goal aimed through the back of the warlord’s skull.

The Crystal obeyed without hesitation, lustrous with energy seemingly immeasurable, cutting a swath through Zero’s elite guard. They scattered, crying out in feeble bursts of dread, their numbers dwindling as Ribbon concentrated on directing her own relic. If they ever had doubts concerning her skill in battle, she knew Zero and his kind would no longer adhere to them. Her Shard grew closer to Zero; it was only a matter of a fraction of a second before—

The Shard made contact. By then Zero had vanished, having melted into the darkness, his wings leaving a brief trail of bloodied feathers behind.

She felt a gust of air push into her; she was on her back, seeing stars, staring up at a blur that was most likely Zero as he readied black lightning in his bandaged palms. “Try again,” he seethed.

Behind him, Ribbon could see Snake and Zelda crumpled like discarded toys, thrown to the side, giving Zero and Ribbon space for just the two of them.

Every logical part of her despised herself for doing so, for bowing to the simmering anger that bubbled in her chest, but Ribbon spat, “I’m guessing you think killing defenseless people is fun.”

“Well, sure.” He was unfazed. “You could say that of me, but I don’t think that’s true. Then again, I’m not at the liberty to deny you of your own opinions. And look, you have a weapon.”

The Crystal soared toward him once more, and Zero disappeared in a blink, only to materialize a second later in the same spot. “Please, stop wasting your energy. I get tired watching you try so hard to achieve so little. Amazing how you think you’ll get anything done like that.”

Zero began to conjure a spear of dark magic, flickering with unstable energy, just as Snake shook off his delirium and stood on his unsteady legs. Ribbon, too, struggled to keep her thoughts in order, restrained her jackrabbiting heartbeat, fought to keep her dreams of revenge away so she could focus and do something, anything to help… The Crystal swung back, rocketed around for another pass, but it seemed far beyond anyone’s reach—

Snake plunged forward without warning, but at the last second Zero whirled around and caught his wrist, yanking it painfully upwards, pushing him into a kneeling position. The knife clattered from his hand, and Ribbon backed up, scrambling to the cliff’s edge. She summoned her Shard to her side but could only watch in silence.

“Really? Hello to you, too.” Zero stared at the mercenary, his one-eyed expression devoid of kindness. “Why do we have to meet so often? Haven’t you seen enough of me? This is surprising. I didn’t think you’d be this… stupid.” He tightened his grip, pulled harder, and Snake bent double, his left shoulder protesting with a tentative creak. “You really are dedicated. Even with one arm… Then again, you wouldn’t be here if I didn’t already know that. There’s something about you, too.”

Zero kicked Snake in the abdomen, and the snap there was audible over the whistling canyon winds.

Ribbon blurted out, “He’s suffered enough! Let him be.”

“How much is enough to you, Ribbon?” Zero let go of Snake, and he crumpled to the ground, the breath knocked out of him as he held one hand over his fractured ribs. “I want you to tell me when you think I should stop, because everyone knows you’re the absolute authority on what suffering looks like. We’re all aware of _how much you’ve been through!_ ”

“Just leave him alone.” Her Shard glowed, and a faint half-circle of light separated her from Zero’s manic glare. “He doesn’t need this.”

“Ribbon, no one in his position would need this. Is that what you think makes him so special, because he’s been through bad things and he deserves better?” He scoffed. “Don’t give me that. You could say that of anyone, anything that remotely resembles you with a pulse and a working brain.”

She eyed the spears and razor-edged swords edging closer, moving into a circle growing steadily tighter. How long would her shield last against a head-on assault? “So, what do you want? You won’t kill him, and you still haven’t killed me or Zelda.”

“Maybe I just like talking.” Zero leered, his eye narrowed in a near-permanent grimace. “And maybe I’m surrounded by people who don’t want to hear me out.”

“Well, sorry we offended you.” Every one of Ribbon’s logical senses screamed at her to stop, to be silent. She knew better than to antagonize the entity towering over her and her friends, but internally, she raged at Zero’s placid features, calm, composed in the face of her sheer misfortune. “Sorry you’re the one who’s miserable, because of us. Sorry we’re somehow the cause of _your problems_ , of all things.”

“No, you misunderstand.” Zero gestured to the forces that had amassed around him. “If my words aren’t direct orders, they don’t care. They have no real sense of self, which is both odd and refreshing. It does get lonely with them, at times.”

“Why? Because you can’t bully them?”

“Oh, I could.” To prove his point, lightning arced from his fingertips, sinking into the nearest Dark Matter soldier. It folded over, jerking, flailing, the electricity evaporating its very essence. “But there’s nothing in it for me. It’s not punishment, what I do. I like sharing lessons, not as a righter of wrongs, but as a teacher of—”

“No, I just think you’re a sadist.” Ribbon snapped, “The only way you’ll enjoy inflicting pain is if you get real people to feel it.”

“So what? If that’s a part of it, then go ahead, accuse me all you want. You’ve asked for it.”

A ravenously morbid part of her wanted to know more. She was regretting the situation, even with it spiraling beyond her sphere of influence, with Zelda struggling to keep quiet beyond the shield as she healed her wounds, with Snake composing himself at Zero’s feet. He was waiting, lingering, and she had no way to tell when he would strike. “And how have we asked for it, exactly?”

“By trying to live.”

Ribbon was suddenly reminded of Addie; it was her friend speaking, mocking the living, fearing the dead. “Oh. Wow. I figured as much. You’re one of those people.”

“Sure. I guess. But whether or not you remember what Dark Matter truly is, it’s what I see. How you’ve come to be alive, who you are in the present… the Dark Matter under my control is a part of it, and in essence, a part of you.”

A soldier behind him launched their spear into her barrier, and Ribbon prayed with all her might that it would hold. It did; her shield flashed and the head of the weapon melted into a puddle of liquid metal. Useless, the shaft clinked to the ground.

Relieved for the moment, she let out a shaky breath from between her chattering teeth. “That’s—that’s not how Dark Matter works; it possesses people, that’s it. There’s… It’s not feasible for it to just… be life.”

“Then, my dear,” Zero said, giving her his undivided attention, “can you remember anything of where you were before you woke up here? Before you and Addie found each other again? I ask you this not to be openly scornful; there are people here that are more noteworthy, more deserving of my anger. No, I won’t waste time being mad at you. But please, do tell me. Can you remember what your life was like before all this?”

“Don’t ask me,” Ribbon sputtered. She hadn’t really gotten a good look at herself in a while. Who knew what had changed in her? “You’re the one who brought us here.”

“You may be right, in a way. But, for a simple request to the unknown, this all seems… excessive.” He glanced behind him, and Snake had miraculously gotten to his feet. His dagger was still clenched in his left hand; he looked on the brink of collapse. “Maybe I’m starting to understand.”

“I don’t get it,” Ribbon stammered. For the sake of the others, she needed to stall. “You, you created this world, you made an army, and you let them do their own thing. Sometimes you go after people like us yourself, and yet, now… Now you’re—you’re telling me that we’re one and the same with them, and that just… No. I don’t. I refuse to believe you.”

“That’s all right. Someday, you’ll remember, and someday, you’ll know that I told the truth. About you, about everything. But for now…” Zero turned back to Snake, and Ribbon wanted to scream. If there was any way to keep Zero’s attention focused on her forever, she hadn’t found it. “Someone is asking to be put down more permanently.”

Snake stood his ground, and he barely twitched as Zero’s form dwindled into the shadows. It was spontaneous; the warlord reappeared at the mercenary’s back, reached a darting hand forward and grabbed for his dagger.

Making one fluid shape with his arm, the movements a blur, Zero ripped the knife from Snake’s grip, brought it around to the front, and stabbed it through his stomach.

The soldier choked, blood already beginning to trickle down his chin. His knees buckled, with only the blade stuck deep in his abdomen to keep him upright. Casually, carrying the demeanor of someone unhurried out on a stroll, Zero steered Snake toward the cliff’s edge, looming heavily over the river rushing below.

Ribbon watched, too terrified to turn away. Her shield faltered, the spirits gathered around her making themselves heard with their eerie hisses and jeers, scraping her eardrums.

Snake held onto Zero, coughing, eyes wide open. Zero twisted the dagger and pulled out, at the same time pushing Snake back so that he lost balance, lurching into a freefall toward the river a dizzying height below, his blood fountaining—

Ribbon never heard his body hit the water.

Zero threw the knife into the canyon after its previous owner. “Won’t be of much use to him down there,” he muttered, “but it’s the thought that counts, I think.”

Then he and his army were gone, leaving behind the smell of blood and the sense that something important had been lost.

XxX


	7. Ouroboros

The shores trickled pleasantly, the water lapping up in a swirling rhythm, pulsing against borders of soft dirt and shallow hills. Above the pastoral union of a river and its banks, silver-laced clouds twirled, pulled apart by winds imperceptible, reflecting the lazy shimmer of the setting sun.

Murmuring, the current carried a small package onto the waterside, delivered in an unconscious haze and a veil of blood. It set the body down on compacted earth as gently as it could, crimson liquid staining where it floated to a stop, its gangly limbs twisted in violent, oddly contorted ways.

Heedless of the raging tempest soon to follow, the winds carried on, and the sun lingered where it was in the sky.

XxX

Eventually, he woke up.

The voice in Snake’s mind let out a low whistle. _Fantastic. I mean, just fantastic. Look at you. Look at us. You really screwed them over this time. So much for you protecting them. So much for being able to all take care of yourselves. Things just keep on getting worse, and you just keep on letting it happen, don’t you?_

He stirred and lifted his head, spitting blood and water from his mouth, his chest region having lost all feeling. This was it; he was a stubborn bastard but he’d finally kicked the bucket. His intestines had probably all fallen out of his stomach, all of his blood had seeped out of him, and this semi-lucid sensation of waking up on an actual riverbank on a simulation of Earth was just what happened to the brain for the few moments before everything shut down completely. Dying twice wouldn’t have been so bad, if not for the violent burning feeling in the bottom of his lungs as he coughed and gathered oxygen with the desperation of a hanged man. _Please, for the love of everything good, shut up._

Snake pulled himself up the shore, every part of him begging for release, his left arm ready to rip free of its socket. His head was a helium balloon; any more tension and the string would snap, letting it spiral away to where he could no longer reach it.

He moved in twitches, twisting uncomfortably, and his ribs creaked. Snake let out a strangled grunt, clasping one hand to his fractured bones, pushing, steeling himself through an extra few inches. Once his upper half was on dry land, he rolled over onto his back, wincing, heaving air through his nose, his eyes watering. In solitude, he faced the cool breeze of a dusky sky, its palette of red and pale oranges a far cry from the deep purples he had grown so accustomed to.

Through his cold-induced haze, Snake knew he should have died. The thought wasn’t anything new, but lying on this riverbank, an actual sky loitering above him, put his ideas in order.

“The portals,” he murmured to no one in particular, his voice rough from disuse. “Current must’ve… pushed me through one.”

_Yes, you’re probably right,_ the presence agreed, for once solemn, quiet with respect. _Now, the question is how to get back to the others, isn’t it? Or, is that what you’re no longer concerned about? You don’t have a weapon. At all. The rest of your supplies must have washed away without you. What a shame. Then again, it didn’t make much of a difference even when you had control of all your faculties, so… There’s not much to be missed._

Those who had trained Snake would be upset to see him in his current condition, would urge him to remain calm and remember that he was supposed to be professional, but he didn’t care. To the being in his head, he roared, his breath coming in choppy grunts, “Just who the hell are you?”

_That whole thing from Zero about Dark Matter, about who we are, and you still haven’t figured it out?_ It sighed, putting undue pressure beneath the bridge of Snake’s nose. _The arrow was never poisoned, but the shock of the wound had been enough of a wake-up call. I suppose, with a new form, sharing a new conscious self with you… I took on your jaded bitterness, your tired sorrow. Maybe that was what attracted me to you in the first place._

Zelda was right to suspect him. “You—”

The Dark Matter dwelling inside him said, _Yes, it’s me. When Zero channeled us, wishing for a new age where he could be content, drawing from the past miseries of the dead and forgotten, I don’t know if he expected all this. But he has an army of us now, a whole world he can claim, so I guess it’s not too bad._

“What are you talking about?”

_He summoned you from amongst the dead, and using the negativity of people like you as a kind of bait, called us into being to produce… what you have previously seen. I was always there, by your side and from the start, kept in stasis together. Like a monument, celebrating the union of primal nothingness and the negativity of humanity._

Somehow, against all odds, the revelation urged Snake onto his injured stomach, then onto his hand and knees. He struggled to his feet and stumbled across the shore, one hand over the gaping hole where his organs should have long since fallen out of him. Every step was an effort, every exhale and inhale a small victory. His one goal for the moment was the tree-line. _Make it there, and you’ll be all right._

A thought crossed his mind, planting itself like an invasive weed, spreading its tangling roots, drinking in his building hysteria. “Then, I’m the cause. The reason all this exists.”

_No, Zero is. But he did use you, so you are right, in a way._

“The crystal core, the explosion… You possessed me, didn’t you?”

_The unstable magic wasn’t helping matters, you know. Not even I could have predicted the outcome. And while I did possess you, I didn’t do that on purpose._

His foot stepped down, crushing a white flower. The petals scattered, listless, borne away on a wind giving mild gusts. Snake inched back and stared at the grove in front of him, not fully comprehending yet all too aware of what lie in wait.

In the center of the flower field, the stalks waving in time with one another, stood a simple grave, the dark stone eroded away at the edges, its surface smoothened with the passage of time. Snake carefully approached, half-tripping his way closer. He stopped next to a tree and collected himself before taking the last few steps and landing hard on his knees in front of the headstone, breathing heavily.

He didn’t need to read what it said to know who was buried beneath it.

The presence in his head was silent for a full moment. Then, it spoke, timidly. _Did you know who she was?_

“Not personally, but people knew her by name.” Snake’s thoughts were all but unfollowable, a storm of incomprehensible notions and patchwork recollections. He had read the debriefing files, remembered his “father’s” Cold War exploits hand in hand with the emotional storm of killing him, the mentor figure he thought he could trust. “She taught my… commanding officer everything.”

_Mmm. I see the memories now._ Had the Dark Matter inhabiting him been given a separate physical form, it would have nodded. _And what she taught him there, he passed on to you. Endurance against all elements, a reason to fight, an innate stubbornness to overcome hardship… Betrayal._

“You said it.”

_Do you feel foolish, now, for your love? Time does not stop, and the wills of people go on. Zero doesn’t care about your well-deserved rest, your dearly departed spirit._ There was a brief moment of peace before it continued. _When you said you’d ‘let the world be’, when you told your supposed father that you loved life… How deeply did you mean it?_

Snake laughed to himself, but even that hurt his stomach deeply. “Do you normally care this much about people?”

_Not really. This is almost unheard of. I realize that you, and many other people, do have moments that aren’t always miserable. As a sort of unwritten rule, we usually don’t concern ourselves with those._ The spirit hesitated; Snake felt its presence retreat slightly, along with most of his migraine. _I will admit we like clinging to sadness. But, there’s something about you. Maybe, since you are an artificial creation, I was drawn to you as a whole. As a person._

“So, I’m the exception.” Snake couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to tell me how evil we are?”

_Humans are not evil, and neither we nor Zero believe they are born to be inherently so. But, based on what I’m seeing and feeling in your memories, your world and its people have done some very stupid, questionable things, some of them deplorable enough to warrant the existence of eternal damnation._

“And what makes you think that?”

_Well, as a collective, you do things for the weirdest reasons, the most one-sided, selfish, personally fulfilling vendettas. You act on impulse, and those in power are given the executive independence to get away with it. You seek to cement yourselves as alive while mutilating the reputations and livelihoods of others via a vicious cycle, and despite the fact that you all realize it is a cycle, the blame continues to shift. It never crosses your minds that to live in a world where the eternal question of validity is weighed unfairly for one party is to erase the purpose of equal freedoms and context._

He was taken utterly aback. “When you put it that way, sure.” His left shoulder was throbbing, and he felt heat gathering on his forehead. “You summed it up pretty well.” All at once, a great weight was placed upon his back, and Snake came to a realization. The enemy really was closer to home than he had previously realized. “So, are you going to try and get me killed again?”

The voice was quiet. _You did give me a sense of your moral compass, and now… Well, you used to be content. You lived miserably, you died, and yet, you were happy. You learned to love. Zero would call you stupid, fighting the wind for selfish, unfathomable reasons, trying to change the course of something that cannot be moved. But, you would do yourself a service to learn the differences between us._

“So?”

_I’m not anything like Zero, not since merging with you._ Dryly, it hummed, _I suppose I won’t get you killed. Not yet, at least._

“Great.” Snake leaned on the grave as he got to his feet, sweating profusely with the effort. “Now get the hell out of my head.”

_David._ The use of his name sent a shiver down his spine. _If I leave, you die, but as long as I’m here, tagging along, you will live forever. You wonder why you haven’t bled out, died from shock, from infection? That’s the curse. Zelda and the others… They were half-right, in that there was something much worse than a surface injury going on. The only reason you were in that much pain was because you kept trying to subconsciously fight me off._

“With good reason,” Snake muttered, his growl foreboding.

_I can’t leave, not without killing you. The moment I disappear, you will succumb to the accumulated weight of your injuries. Your life force will no longer be tethered to this world, and without that, well… I can’t guarantee your health, or your safety._

“You could never guarantee it, anyway,” he mumbled, suspended in a state of disbelief. If Dark Matter was the reason he still lived and breathed, then why him? Why did Zero decide to use his spirit, pull his from its rest amongst a countless number drawn from different walks of life, different dimensions?

_But that’s the thing. He never chose you. In order to summon enough of us, he made a wish to channel negative energy through a soul that has been burdened with hardship, and this is what happened. Of the millions of combinations, the infinite possibilities of people’s souls—alive or dead—and their dreams and sorrows… You were what came out, what jumpstarted all this. In essence, you are a victim of circumstance._

Snake collapsed and sat back down heavily, flattening the grasses around the grave, his chest and ribcage all but numb. He could feel his heart pounding.

_I’m sorry. This isn’t anything new, I guess. Maybe a part of you has always thought of life as the curse you were created to bear, for the sake of someone else’s advantage. Few people wish for their children to wilt under hardship, and yet… You were no normal child, and your life was far from ordinary._

Snake settled backward against the headstone, the wind tousling his dripping hair. He asked quietly, “Why’re you telling me this?”

_Do you not want me to?_

“Not really.”

_Well, I don’t want you to die._ The voice was gentle enough. _I have seen through you that malevolence need not be my end-goal. I don’t have to murder everything I see, contrary to what I’ve been told. I’m just curious about you, about them. But I recognize you may not be the most accommodating… landlord, so would I be safe in assuming you don’t care about life, and that you would invite me to leave without second thoughts?_

“You read me perfectly.” The malice in his words was self-evident. “I won’t be of much use to you, anyway, if you take control.”

_Do you trust me when I say I’m not here to take over your body?_

“No.”

_How about if I told you I would leave and never willingly come back, to use your lifeless physical form against others?_

“Nope.”

_Fair enough, but take my word for it. I’m not—I refuse to hurt you. Besides, regardless of whether or not you believe me, there are greater concerns floating around in your head. I can sense them._

“And what are you sensing that’s so interesting?” Snake was finding it harder to see through his own sarcasm.

_You’re worried about the others. As any good person should be._

He grumbled. “It’s not about being a good person. It’s about being reasonable. If they’re gone, we lose any kind of offensive advantage we could have salvaged.”

_Hmm._

“What about them?”

_Zelda trusted you, for answers, for a way out. Ribbon, too… They’re both young, and you could teach them something. You’ve thought this already, as motivation._

“They’re probably dead,” he said, with all honesty. “Why would Zero leave them alive?”

_Zero would like to say that your ongoing existence proves him right, so you are the source of his ego. Why would he kill that off? On top of that, I think your young friend Ribbon said it best._

“What, that he’s a sadist?”

The lack of a reply was all the confirmation he needed.

_You should hurry, start to find your way back to them,_ was what it said after a heavy silence. _Now is not the time to keep them waiting; Zero likes his subjects semi-conscious._

Snake frowned and wiped dust off the stone, lost in thought. This definitely wasn’t the real one; maybe this was a vision of the graveyard he had once visited, and he’d wake up in much less pleasant circumstances, in the hands of an insane, unearthly dimension-tearing horror. “What makes you think I want to go back?”

_Don’t ask me; you know yourself well enough. Even if there really is no end in sight, if you will have to tax yourself nearly to death, you’ll end this. If there is no chance of changing outcomes to favor you, if you have to crawl across the finish line a broken, useless cripple of a man given a second chance you didn’t want… For the sake of the people you wish to have a good life, you’ll see it through without question. It’s what you do best; you don’t need me to tell you that. Isn’t that right?_

Snake found little reason to argue.

XxX

Ribbon bustled over and shook Zelda awake. How many times had she done that now? How many times had they nearly lost everything? “He’s gone, Zelda. Zero’s gone. He, he just disappeared, I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything about it—”

“Ribbon, it’s fine, I’m fine.” Coaxing Ribbon’s hands off her shoulders, Zelda rubbed her eyes and scrutinized the long cut down the side of her robes. “Really, you should save your energy—”

The reality of their current situation hit with the force of a train. “Oh, gods. Snake.”

Zelda lightly pushed the fairy to the side and jumped to her feet. She ran to the cliff’s edge and peered down, searching for an odd lump on the ground, a shape bobbing in the current as it paced downstream, anything that could signify life that was not yet completely drowned or washed away by the water.

Finding neither, she backed away and sat down with a heavy sigh, her head in her hands.

Unsure of what to do with herself, Ribbon sat a little closer. Her wings fluttered restlessly. “I’m sorry, Zelda. Maybe, maybe if I had acted a little faster, maybe if I hadn’t just hit him on the arm the first time and maybe gone for the stomach instead, or something—”

“Don’t say that.” Zelda held up a hand, and Ribbon was startled into silence. “You did what you could. There’s nothing to apologize for.” She looked over the canyon, her gaze distant, obscured by a quiet haze. “I just… I just wish that maybe things could go well for once, and that one of our plans could finally go right.”

“That’s… very honest of you.” Ribbon wasn’t sure if she had believed they would manage. To her, being in a large group gave them the best chances for survival, but success? She hadn’t counted on it. “I think we’re doing fine, for what we’ve been given.”

Zelda gave a teary-eyed smile. “And we’ll die believing that, won’t we?”

“I don’t know.” Ribbon didn’t know what to do with herself. Zelda didn’t need a small child to comfort her; she was more than capable of comforting herself, finding the light that would lead them on. “If it makes you feel any better, I mean… I still don’t know what to do about Addie. Maybe the lead I thought I had was never a lead; maybe I just messed up and we’re just tracking some random signature that has nothing to do with her. I didn’t want to tell you, because I was sure you wouldn’t like being sidetracked.”

Her reply was not immediate. After a moment, Zelda gave a low hum in the back of her throat. “Regardless, we’re giving an effort, and that’s better than what Addie wanted.”

“You mean, when she didn’t want to try to stop Zero?”

Zelda nodded. “If she was so concerned with life being so short, why not spend it in the best way you can?”

_She was worried she’d lose me. She was worried for herself, wondering what would happen if she couldn’t move of her own free will, or how much it would hurt to stop breathing before she stopped thinking. She worried about life and feared death. It’s only natural, right?_

“Ribbon,” Zelda asked, her demeanor once more that of nonchalant stillness, “the whole thing about Dark Matter… Did you understand any of it?”

She shook her head emphatically. “Well, maybe. I’m not sure. But if I were you, I’d focus on your goal.”

“We can’t; my goal… My dreams said it had to be him. He was our way out. He could help us find what we needed solely by virtue of being himself.” Zelda breathed harshly, stifling a roar of frustration. “It’s just—just that I don’t know what to do.”

“But weren’t you always afraid he would betray you? You must’ve had some kind of ‘Plan B’, even before that whole thing went down.”

Zelda looked up. “You heard?”

Ribbon fixed her in a deadpan stare. “Zelda, I’m young, but I’m not stupid enough to not know how to eavesdrop.” She flapped her wings encouragingly, rising steadily to her feet. “C’mon, we can have this talk while moving. I figure you don’t want to stay here too long.”

A part of Zelda could have sat there forever. Reprimanding herself for her weakness, she rose to her feet. “Even after that moment, I—I thought he was still our ally. I wanted so much to believe my dreams that I didn’t consider anything else. My fear propelled me to interpret them without a stable foundation for truths and possibilities.”

Ribbon frowned. “So, you acted on impulse, basically.”

“I’ll admit that,” said Zelda, softly.

“I mean, it’s just… I find it so hard to—Oh, forget it. You’re a queen, for heaven’s sake!” Ribbon snapped, shaking, her voice reverberating in the canyon below. “You should know how to be prepared!”

“I know.”

The fairy seethed, “I mean, how hard is it to just ask, ‘Oh, this might not work out as well as I think it will. Let’s plan ahead so I make sure I _don’t die_ in case things go wrong—’?” She cut herself off. “Then again, I’m not in charge of how you think.”

“But you have every right to feel as you do.”

To this, Ribbon had no reply.

Zelda threw her a helping hand in the conversation. “All right. What should we do?”

“Same as before. I follow the Shard to Addie, you follow behind me.”

“We should look for Snake—”

“He’s… he won’t be coming, you know that. He’s dead. We don’t have time to find his body.” Ribbon had done an uncanny job of bracing her nerves. She focused her tired eyes on the queen’s and said, “We need to move on. You saw him go over. So did I, and the drop itself… We know he’s gone, but we don’t know if Addie is, and that’s enough for us to hope.”

Shaking, the queen nodded. In retrospect, she had enough experience with war councils to know when to let people grieve and urge them into action. There would be a time for her tears; she would make sure of it. Hopefully, there would also be a time to show Ribbon just how valuable she was to their shared goal.

The fairy closed her eyes and felt for her Crystal. It hovered at attention before rocketing forward, illuminating their way. She looked on, her relic carving its own path. “We just keep moving. Things will work out.”

Zelda felt disconnected from herself; the ground she stood on, the weapons she carried, the dreams she interpreted as her future were no longer part of her cognition. “Ribbon, how are you holding up?” _She’s taking this a lot better than I thought she would._ “I know you cared for both of them.”

“Well, I barely knew Snake.”

“Yes, but you received him better than Addie did.”

Ribbon stared at her strangely. “I was sleeping.” To save Zelda from embarrassment, she added quickly, “But yeah, I didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.”

“Was I wrong for trusting him?”

“The possession, the energy signatures… I don’t think they were his fault. That’s not who he was. Then again,” the fairy interrupted, stalling her own train of thought, “you knew him better than I did.”

 _Do I really?_ “You’ve… you’ve seen a lot, haven’t you?”

The fairy kept her eyes peeled forward as they set pace. “Being with Addie taught me a lot about… moving on. Letting go of mistakes.”

She didn’t elaborate, but Zelda didn’t need her to. She understood.

XxX

_So, are you just going to wait here?_

Truth be told, Snake was out of leads. Here he was, in foreign territory, with the people he could have considered his team nowhere to be found. Now, he couldn’t die, but he wasn’t invincible. The scars on his left cheek and shoulder, his broken bones, fried nerves, and the wound in his stomach that he prayed wouldn’t get worse told that story clearly enough. “Where would I go?”

The river stretched beyond the bank into a low-hanging fog, obscuring the perpetual sunset sky, misting over the warm hues that drifted indolently above. Beyond a couple of feet, the fog was nothing but a gray mass of condensing water, hanging in suspense.

_I guess your best bet is to go into it._ The Dark Matter gave what could have been a resentful snort. _But you already knew you were thinking that. I don’t have to read back your own ideas. Oh, but you’re worried about your arm, aren’t you? Understandable. Only having one is a large detriment to your swimming ability._

“No shit.”

_If you were wondering, there’s not much I can do about that. You’ll have to last with just your left. After all, I can’t exactly produce something from nothing._

“Were you the reason Zelda’s healing—”

_Caused you pain?_ The spirit considered the question. _Perhaps. Magic is unpredictable, even for someone with her… inherent experience._

An abrupt thought crossed Snake’s mind. “What do I call you?” Whatever reasons he had for buddying up to the entity in his brain had been long since forgotten. It would have been so much easier to just ignore it, to block out its voice and focus on what he actually could see with his own two eyes.

But, if Snake knew anything about names, he knew how important it was to have one all to himself.

_You like short names, right? Simple, the ones that let you know who the person is without having to fit any number of convoluted syllables together? Hmm._ It pondered the question for a good long while. _How about Matt? It’s short for Dark—_

“Yeah, I get it.”

_I think it fits with your human mannerisms well. It helps you remember who I am, and it’s brief, to the point._

Snake watched the tender lapping of waves coming astride the riverbanks, brushing the earth before retreating, only to repeat the cycle and rush forth anew. He had achieved a kind of peace here, listening to the water splashing against the shore, drawing dirt and rocks away, pulling them down to the riverbed. The trees rustled behind him, adding their voices to the chorus of a mild wind that stirred the flowers into a kind of rustic dance.

_Those small white plants… You call them “stars-of-Bethlehem”?_

Wanting to preserve his voice, Snake answered silently. _Yeah. They grow in southern Europe and Africa._

_I don’t know what any of those are, or what they mean,_ Matt admitted, its resonant baritone echoing dimly between his ears. _I guess, if you humans enjoy cultivating them and watching them grow, more power to you._

The water tumbled pleasantly nearby.

 _But, it’s curious,_ it added after a while. _They look so fragile._

Snake resisted the urge to laugh. _That’s what flowers are._

_Oh. Well, I’m new to all this. You people really are fascinating, in more ways than one. “Flowers”. You just raise them, despite the fact they will wilt and die the moment the weather worsens? For all the time you spend caring for them, what can they do besides look pretty?_

The mercenary rolled his left shoulder and immediately regretted it; the motion sent a cascade of sparks down through his shattered ribs, stretching the arrowhead scar. _That’s it. They don’t need to be anything else._

_I see. That’s… hmm._

“What?” Snake wondered out loud. “Something bothering you?”

_I never thought you’d ask me, of all people or things. You really do care._ If Matt had a face, it would have smiled, a mischievous glint in its eyes. _No, it’s not a big deal. But your kind hands flowers out to each other after plucking them up from the earth, giving them water to live on, and disregarding the land that gave them to you? Really?_

“You ever hear a flower complain?”

_I didn’t know what they were until merging with you, but judging on your memories, you have never heard a flower complain. I would assume the answer is no._

Snake resisted the urge to start skipping stones. The air was clean, and for the moment, Matt showed no desire for deliberate spite. Something about this small pocket of land and blossoming flora told him he was out of harm’s way, if only for a short time. “They’re hardier than they look. Grow back fast, too.”

_I suppose that’s better on your conscience, knowing they can sprout anew. They do look quite nice while they’re around, with the… colors, and all that. Even if they aren’t particularly good at protecting against people, or anything._ Matt’s presence withdrew into a darkened corner of Snake’s consciousness, keeping to itself. _Well, you’re tired. I suppose you want sleep, and not the kind that you’re forced into. So, you really should relax._

His instinct was to refuse and to second guess his sense of security. Was he really that safe? Could he afford to take time to let himself recover? He was still getting used to the concept of his own invincibility. Snake leaned back into a nearby tree, the faint smell of freshly made sap suffusing the air. “I guess so.”

_Zero doesn’t know what to do with either you or me,_ Matt pondered, seemingly amused. _One thing I know for sure: he doesn’t want you to go to waste. He’ll try to prove you wrong, in everything that you do. Make himself feel better; you know how it is._

“Yeah, I noticed.”

_Maybe, in his mind, this is my punishment, being bound to you, unable to act the way the rest of my kind does. But really, there’s no need to feel sorry for me._

“Wasn’t going to,” Snake muttered, drowsily, his eyelids refusing to stay open.

 _Oh, well. That can wait for now. You get some sleep._ Matt had the final word. _Humans really are weird, aren’t they? Sleep? It’s all so weird. Do you really just lie down and die, for a little? I don’t think I’ll ever figure you people out…_

Snake closed his eyes and drifted off to the sounds of running water and a kind northern breeze, his doubts temporarily borne on the back of the wind, determined to reach a new destination.

XxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (It was nice to write this... Almost like down-time)  
> ((Also, if the italics are bothersome, I'll need some other way to indicate when Dark Matter speaks in someone's head; feedback is welcomed))


	8. The Fragile Kind of Hope

He remembered the sound of the gunshot: resonant, clear across the Alaskan snowfield, ripping through the trees and the gentle whispers of the wind. He could remember how the recoil felt, even as he distanced himself from the memory. Wolves howled in the background; sardonically, he thought it a fitting call to the afterlife for the one so recently departed.

Then he was staring down at a body, her hair splayed about her in the blanket of white, sniper rifle held almost lovingly in her deathly grasp, blood staining where she lay on her back, still, lifeless. The peaceful look on her face, her relaxed cheek muscles, the slight smile on her bloody lips…

If Snake hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger on her, he would have thought she was asleep.

And Hal…

Hal crouched nearby, whimpering, shivering in his lab coat. His glasses fogged with his tears, he sobbed over the woman’s body. He exchanged words, blubbering, with the man standing above him, whose gun was still warm to the touch. The engineer’s regrets, not being able to protect her… All of it felt too familiar, too close to home.

Snake watched his past self lean down, place a small white cloth on the sniper’s face, then wander off. He didn’t have time for misgivings, compounded anxieties. He had a job to do, other people to save. There was a kind of melancholy purpose in his burdened stride, borne from friends and allies he had already lost, long before ever setting foot on the archipelago, and as he walked into the building snowstorm he called back to Hal.

Together they made their promise: finding purpose.

_Did you ever find it?_ Matt asked. _For a dream-flashback, this is all incredibly detailed. I wonder… What stood out?_

Half-mumbling to himself, Snake said, “I never told him.”

_Outright? No, you didn’t. Interesting. You did promise you would, after all this went down. Wow. Is that the kind of thing people like you die regretting?_

Hal pledged his help: “Okay. I’ll be searching, too.”

Then the growing blizzard swallowed him, this gangly, spectacled vision of the past, and Snake was alone.

Squinting through the biting wind, he approached where the renegade terrorist had fallen, shielding his eyes with his left arm, marching through the snow. It wasn’t like he needed to see the memory again, but something pushed him on.

_She was your enemy, wasn’t she?_

Curtly, Snake said, “We were on different sides. That’s all.”

_Really._

He sat down heavily next to the body, stared at the handkerchief as it whipped and whirled under the pressure of the winter gale. If it somehow flew away, he didn’t want to bother with catching it. “Yep.”

_I’m sure you would have respected her more, if you were on the same side,_ noted Matt. _But like so many things that go wrong with you odd and confusing people, it was really just a matter of circumstance. Her savior betrayed your trust, but to her, he was a hero._

Snake said nothing.

Matt took his silence as an invitation to continue. _You called her someone to respect, as a loner with principles. Someone noble. It seems like you’re not the kind of person to disparage those about to die, but was that genuine?_

“I mean what I say,” he replied, evenly.

_Hmm._

All at once, Matt bristled; Snake felt pressure build in between his ears. He snapped to attention, looking out into the snowstorm; if he concentrated, he could hear the rhythmic crunching of feet as a figure, tall, six wings buffeted by the wind, trudged closer. Narrowing his gaze, he could make out the distinct shape of a halo floating above the person’s head.

Like an image appearing in mist, Zero stepped forward, not an illusion but flesh and blood. “You dream very vividly, David. I won’t say I’m surprised, because I’m not. Trauma is weird like that, I guess.”

Somehow, Snake lacked the energy to get up. He was simply too tired of dealing with the same things, over and over. After a certain point, his pain became… boring. Routine.

It was nothing new.

After a time, Snake growled, “If you’re here to mess with me, just get it over with.”

Zero shook out the sleeves of his robes, wiped away snow that had gathered on the battered cloth. “No, I’m not here for you. Really, it’s quite interesting, what you and that Dark Matter have gone through. With the way everything has pieced itself together and how your friends have somehow retained their own identities… It’s fascinating, it really is.”

“So why’re you here?”

“Your newfound… companion. I want to ask it something.”

Immediately, Snake felt Matt freeze. His breath caught in his lungs as the spirit in his head began to panic. _He won’t get it._

“Why won’t you leave him?” Zero’s voice was innocuous enough. “You have enough power for your own physical form, just like all the others. Why not join them? You’re just holding yourself back, in my opinion. Letting him be the one in charge of where you go.”

When Matt next spoke, its voice had been magnified; somehow, it broadcasted its words beyond Snake’s thoughts. “I… I don’t want him to die.”

“Who cares?” His reply was vicious. “He’s disposable. He’s a tool, and I’m sure there are plenty of people like him, with enough personal pain to fuel what I have for generations to come. If you won’t let me experiment on you both, then you should at least feel okay with leaving his dead body behind.”

_He thinks he’s being reasonable,_ Snake realized in silence. _Thinks this is some kind of compromise._

“Or,” Zero mused, “you could always just take over. Forcibly. Who cares what he wants?”

“I do,” replied Matt, simply.

Sighing, Zero looked out into the ever-expanding darkness. “Which makes it all the more difficult for me. You know, you gaining cognizance really gets in the way of me killing him.”

“That’s fine.”

“I mean, he’s been through so much already, and I’m not even sure how he hasn’t just… keeled over and died.” The warlord crossed his arms, his wings flapping incessantly, gaining no traction against the storm. “Maybe, if I had some more time, I’d figure it out. You just have to, y’know, take control of his body for a little and hand yourself over. You can do that much, surely.”

“Haven’t I made myself clear?” Matt was insistent. “I refuse to put him in harm’s way.”

Zero swelled with anger. “So. You think being the first of your kind to cross is enough to pull that with me? You think you can get away with this?”

“I was never of the mindset that I could, but this is what I’ve decided.”

“Has his cute little human mind convinced you of something different, with his moral compass and desire to make life better? His crippling sense of responsibility really is rubbing off on you.”

Matt did not reply.

“David,” Zero said, his tone almost tender. “In another life, I could have felt sorry for what you’ve gone through. I could have sympathized with your pain, but you already do enough of that for yourself. You say you fight others because you have a responsibility to the next generation. You lived and died believing that lie. But how much of that was only because that was all you knew?”

Snake looked into the red eye of his accuser. He found an abyss, gaping back without mercy. “What’re you talking about?”

“Oh, you know very well what I’m talking about. You know how to kill efficiently, and you somehow found a way to circumvent your own guilt by convincing yourself of your fight for a better future. ‘It’s for the best’, you’d say. ‘It’s in the name of progress. Some people deserve to die.’ All that. Now, tell me. Is that not selfish? Protecting yourself, your own identity? You’d fall under the burden of your own incompetence, otherwise. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Clenching his fist, Snake stared at the bed of freshly fallen snow. “It’s not your call to make.”

“Then, whose is it? Because letting you call your own shots is, frankly, a waste of your life. Not that it was very useful in the first place, with you just… being a janitor, cleaning up after the mess your father and his associates made. Funny. Just a bunch of old fools, and you’re one more to add to the pile.”

Snake got to his feet. This was some kind of nightmare, a memory, a flashback. Any second now, and he’d go back to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Or, maybe, he’d wake up, with no recollection of what had occurred in his head. He just had to hang on for a little while longer.

Zero asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Where are you going? Because I’m so concerned for your health, I need to know.”

The sniper rifle on the ground seemed all the more appealing as the seconds went by. He considered reaching for it, but what good would a gun do to someone like Zero? He knew he’d be less than equipped to handle it with only one arm.

It didn’t matter. None of this did. This was just another delirium-fueled flashback, and he already had plenty of experience with those.

“What? Do you really think I’m not here, in your head, in person?” Shrugging to himself, Zero said, “Fine, whatever. Believe what you want to believe. Maybe I can’t stop you, but…” He spread his wings and stalked closer. “I can definitely kill you.”

Panicked, Matt’s thoughts raced. _He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you can’t die. He just thinks you’re a tough old man and isn’t sure how you could withstand so much. He’s serious about wanting you dead._

Snake caught on. _Can he do that in a dream?_

 _I’m not sure,_ the Dark Matter spirit replied, _but I don’t want to find out._

Lightning scoured the earth, cracking through the snow, breaking the momentum of the bitter arctic wind. Zero’s face lit up with a kind of frenzied glee, his wings spread out to their fullest extent.

Snake backed away from the body, stepping over her rifle. Knowing her, she most likely had another gun on hand, but he didn’t want to spend extra time looking for it—

A spear of electricity marked the earth inches away from him, and Snake rolled to the side, his broken ribs and throbbing stomach wound begging him to rest. He landed in a crouch and bolted behind a tree, catching his breath as sparks gathered in the air, undeterred by the howling snow.

The cold hit him, then: he no longer had the shots Naomi had once given him ages ago, and he shivered, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. His exhalations steamed in front of him. All of this felt so real, and yet, here he was, playing out a memory with an otherworldly demon after him in his sleep.

_This isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, I see._ Through its utter fear, Matt was duly impressed. _You’ve encountered strange people, and yet, a part of you refuses to admit they exist. Then again, that’s just the narrative you’ve spun for yourself. Everything makes sense, and you can create your own future. Zero was right. You are selfish._

Snake had little patience. _Great. Does that change anything?_

_No. Not really. I knew all of this, already._

The bark of the tree he was hiding behind began to chip away; there was a deafening crack of thunder, and the world was bathed in light, electric heat.

Darting behind another tree several feet away, Snake heaved a shallow breath, his lungs itching. In his troubled state, the ocean-scented wind was doing him no favors. _If you want me to survive so badly, do you have any tricks up your sleeves?_

_I can’t grow back your other arm or anything—_

_Zero said you’re powerful enough to create a physical form—_

_Which means I leave you to die, while I wander off._

_This is a dream!_

Matt was incredulous. _Then why not try standing your ground?_

From somewhere nearby, Zero’s voice echoed. “David, you’re just doing what Addie did: prolonging the inevitable. Remember, you have a reputation of being a hero to uphold! You don’t want to disappoint them with stories of you hiding, do you?”

_I’m not a hero, and hiding was part of the job. It’s just what I was good at._ If Snake had been any more indignant, he would have said this out loud. _They’re not missing out on anything._

_All right. I’m confused. If this is a dream,_ repeated Matt, its tone challenging, _then why do you think me leaving you will not kill you? Are you willing to try it out? Are you willing to test just how far Zero is willing to go to see you suffer?_

“No,” Snake said under his breath. “I’m just tired of running away.”

Carefully, with lightning still ripping through the forest of snow and fallen pine needles, Snake maneuvered between tree trunks and crept around to Zero’s back, still several yards away from where the warlord stood in the clearing, walking toward where Snake once was—

Without regard for his own safety, Snake charged forward at a sprint, throwing up clouds of snow and ice crystal as he rushed Zero, slamming into him, propelling him face-first into the ground. As he knelt atop the warlord’s winged back, he knew it would be much harder to pin Zero down with only one arm, but he’d make it work somehow. He always had. In every case, over every hurdle, he’d found a way out—

Zero disappeared from underneath him, melting into a blackened husk of viscous shadows before dissolving entirely.

Hurriedly, Snake got to his feet, glancing to all sides, trying to steady his breathing. His lungs ached, his ribs burned. If his insides were gone because of the hole in his stomach, he hadn’t noticed it yet. Hopefully, he’d have time to worry about it later—

The ground blurred underneath him as he was thrown back, and suddenly he was pinned to a tree by the throat, a pale, bandaged hand with a grip like iron keeping him upright. His eyesight muddied, Snake pulled against him, attempting to pry away his arm.

Zero stared him down. “For someone so fragile and incomprehensibly flawed, you really are determined. I may not exactly understand why, because you’re not fighting for anything important, but if you’re okay with that, then I suppose you don’t mind doing something so unbelievably useless.”

The warlord looked at Snake’s stomach, regarding the stab wound closely. “Oh. Did I do that? Fascinating. You’ve probably heard this statement many times from many people, but you really should be dead. Never mind being strong-willed; your body should have simply given up on you by now. What’s keeping you afloat, old man?”

To Zero, Snake had nothing to say.

“You in there. Do I have your attention?” Zero leaned in closer, speaking directly to the Dark Matter that nestled in Snake’s head. “Believe it or not, you do have a choice. First, you could just leave him now, and you won’t have to worry about me punishing you. Second, I could just go the easy route and kill him by doing something… drastic; as much as I would like to drag this out, I have better ways to spend my time.”

_Don’t listen,_ Matt urged. _Don’t listen. No matter what he says or proposes—_

“Third, I could always just take him in, with you coming along for the ride, and try and see if I can get a few more uses out of him, maybe summon more powerful Dark Matter spirits. Or, I could see the full extent of just how fragile humans are, do a few more ‘experiments’ on him. It’s your call, and I can wait.”

Snake protested, voicing a half-hearted rebuttal. “This is a dream—”

“What about it?” At the look on Snake’s face, Zero cackled. “I think you underestimate just how little control you have. Have you ever considered that since I’m the one who called you back, your soul, everything you are, is no longer yours to own? It doesn’t matter what you’re doing. Believe me, I’ll know everything.”

Coughing, Snake clenched his jaw, biting down on his seething anger. Here Zero was, with the nerve to call each of them selfish. As if he could just lay claim to people—

Zero pulled back for a punch, and Snake felt the air around them plummet in pressure. His lungs dropped to his feet; a blanket of white encased the snowfield, shuttering out the rampant flashes of lightning, the scene of a long-dead corpse and the trees that towered over it. The unforgiving grip around his neck abated, and he fought the urge to throw up. He had gone weightless, stunned, uncomprehending.

When he next found himself, he was kneeling on the snow, his pants soaked, his skin peppered with goosebumps. His vision doubled, Snake got to his feet, rubbing away his pounding headache and building fever. Even through the wintry chill, he smelled the rising fumes of volcanic sulfur.

Zero was no longer facing Snake; he was turned to the tree-line, glancing around with uncharacteristic dread.

_Wait. What the hell?_

Matt said, hurriedly, _You—you teleported out of his reach. I’m not sure how, and it happened so quickly…_

“Oh, there you are,” Zero said, whirling around to face the mercenary. “You had me surprised for a moment. I suppose even old dogs like you can learn new tricks. Or maybe you just got lucky. Either way, I’ll find out the truth. As will you, I’m sure. But for right now, I think we’ve both had enough of each other. Never mind all those decisions. Those can wait.”

Lightning once more tore into the snow, glowing dangerously.

There was a flare of pure light, and then, there was nothing.

XxX

Snake awoke on his back, the sound of a gurgling river gradually carrying him back to consciousness. Above him lurked a violet sky, torn to pieces by arcs of light and lavender bolts. The obsidian earth underneath him was a cold, unfeeling omen, pulling him into his current reality, one that Zero had absolute control over.

Of the snow and faint scent of death, there was no sign.

Groggily, he sat up and winced, grasped his stomach with one shaking hand.

_So, we’re back to where we started. How you got here through a dream is anybody’s guess._ Matt’s voice was shaking. _Which, regardless of how it happened, may be a good thing for you._

_What? Why?_

_Look at your hand._

Snake obliged, and almost instantly regretted it.

What struck him first was the nearly overpowering stench of sulfur, bringing unwilling tears to his eyes. As he fought to keep his gaze focused, he noticed his skin sloughing away in flakes, miniscule ashes that fell apart before hitting the ground. The veins that wormed their way up through his left arm carried black blood underneath pale flesh.

Doubt prickled his skull. Were his eyes turning red, even as he sat in shock, waiting passively for the end of it all?

_That’s… not supposed to be happening, I would assume._ For a being settled directly in Snake’s mind, Matt hid its surprise well. _Humans don’t normally just… dissolve into thin air on their own, do they? Unless I missed something._

Snake was too troubled to bite back with a retort. _How the hell do I fix this?_

_Magic repositories,_ answered Matt, plainly.

_What?_

_The places where Dark Matter energy is in greater concentrations_ , the spirit explained, its tone gentle. _Maybe, if there’s more of my kind in one area, the congregation could somehow help you channel whatever is happening to you now. I’m assuming this has to do with our link, so if there’s any kind of lead to follow, I suggest that one._

Sighing, Snake ran his ephemeral left hand through his muddied hair. Considering how the previous magic repository had exploded, he was less than enthused about the idea. Morbidly, he wondered if his arm was still stuck underneath the cave-in, rotting in his own blood.

Out loud, he asked, “Do you have anything else?”

_No, not really. I don’t know nearly enough to be of use. But, I remember what Zelda said to you, a while back… Something about Dark Matter in the core sharing your same energy signature, maybe because of our connection. Perhaps that has something to do with all of this. You could turn it to your advantage, seeing as you were indeed the conduit that led us here._

“Then I guess that’s what we’re doing.” Taking a series of deep breaths, Snake got to his feet. “What about the teleporting?”

_In the dream?_

“Yeah.”

_That… I’m not sure of, either. I have theories about the nature of our connection, none of which are promising for your well-being. I don’t think you want more depressing news; I’ll just… keep those to myself, I suppose. For now. But I was not in control._

“Great.” Snake growled, “So neither of us know what's happening.”

_That’s not anything new for you, is it?_

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

XxX

Much farther down the river’s twisting path, the air was unusually clean, suffused with the cold scent of an indifferent world and the darkness of creatures uninterested, unsympathetic. Skeletons of sullied trees loomed above, slicing through the landscape painted by lightning and streaks of vicious mauve light.

Zelda sat next to Ribbon, huddled together by a roaring fire, struck by an entrenched feeling of déjà vu. Here, the danger was not immediate, and she had room to think.

The queen could remember how she felt sitting beside Snake, accompanying—perhaps not necessarily enjoying—the presence of a legendary soldier. Zelda wasn’t prone to hero-worship or feeling abashed to people she considered her equals, but if a case could be made for her to admire anyone, he was a strong contender.

In a different time, a different place where the way of things was no longer as militant or as desperate, what could he have taught her?

She felt foolish just considering the question, but the thought was inescapable. What kind of teacher would he have been, with all his years of an excruciating life and trying to fight through it?

The memory of the moment troubled her, though. She didn’t want to have to recall the pain in his eyes, the clouds of uncertainty, of derisive and shocked disbelief, but as she thought back to that time, two people weighed down by age gathered together under the drama of a violent sky at war with itself … It was almost impossible not to. From what she could tell, he was someone deeply grounded in reality; he didn’t deal in hopes, or in superstitions. He rooted himself in the present day, the way he lived and breathed, not in how he was born, or how he would die. The idea fascinated her; it seemed that even the best of the best needed a helping hand when it came to preparing tactics in advance.

Again, she felt it: that sense of dread, despite her accumulated experience. Her memories of the past few days—or hours, months, years; she couldn’t tell between them—were gradually growing faint, but she knew her strengths. She knew her capabilities, and it was only natural for her to feel confident in her offensive magic.

Ribbon sat close by, rubbing her arms, pulling her sweater into her chest. Teeth chattering, the fairy asked, “Hey, Zelda. I’ve asked Addie this question before, but… Do you know why we don’t get hungry here?”

“It seems I’m not the only one lost in thought.”

“No, you’re not. It’s kind of natural for me.”

“To answer, I’m not quite sure.” Just pondering the notion, barely scratching the surface, gave Zelda serious misgivings. “One could imagine that, as people, we’d require something edible to live off of.”

“Yeah.” Ribbon twiddled the Crystal Shard in between two bruised fingers. Her stare, while focused deeply into the heart of their campfire, was aimed thousands of miles away. “I mean, I like sleep. I like getting rest. But I don’t need anything else. Is that weird? Maybe you haven’t really thought about it, and, and I’m sorry for disturbing you with all this.”

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” Zelda waved away the young girl’s apprehension. “I appreciate the sentiment, but if there’s something you need to get off your chest, feel free to.” _Like you’ve already done, tearing away my foolish lack of foresight. Would further planning have saved us this trouble? Would Snake and Addie still be here, with us?_

“Zelda.”

“Yes. I’m still listening.”

“Do you think… that because we don’t really need to eat, or drink anything to live, that we aren’t really alive? That this world is something beyond what we imagine as a world for people like us?”

Her train of thought carried her to the memory of Dark Matter, hovering over the river they now followed, its one eye a silent observer, willing to neither participate in murder nor intervene to end it. Then, her meditations brought her to Snake, his two red eyes staring ahead, listless, exactly like how Zero once stared her down as he sought to choke her to death.

“Zelda?” Ribbon sounded genuinely afraid. “Do you think… do you think Zero’s listening in, right now? So much has changed from how I used to understand things; I mean, you show up with Snake and all this stuff happens so fast, and I still can’t imagine why any kind of Dark Matter would consider continuing to possess a human that’s missing an arm. Also, if it’s really inhabiting Snake, then why is Zero still hunting him down? The Dark Matter would just be doing its job.”

“It’s a sport, Ribbon. One that Zero may not even find any enjoyment in.”

“Has he ever told you about, about… something like proving a point?”

“Yes.” Zelda threw a brittle twig into the fire; it caught almost instantaneously, its bark shriveling up from the wooden core in spasmodic curls, only to be absorbed and spat out as smoke. “He’s sent me dreams, messages, telling me that I’m too selfish to be allowed to live a normal life.”

“Selfish? In what way?”

Zelda shrugged. “I have no idea. His mentality of life is often… too obtuse for me to follow. I just know he has a vendetta, and that he’s followed the events of my life with unbelievable accuracy.”

Again, that flash of insecurity. If her memories of recent happenings were going foggy at the edges, how could she remember with such clarity the passage of her old life, starting from her education in the castle, the way her father groomed her in the ways of the Hylian royal family?

Zelda quickly shrugged her doubts aside. She couldn’t see them being productive in any capacity.

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” Then, Ribbon perked up, her bow dancing, pink hair bobbing. “Um, I don’t mean to accuse you again, or make you feel worse about your decisions or anything, but, these dreams… The one that you got a while back, y’know, the one that told you to find Snake… Are you sure that it wasn’t sent by Zero, to help him further some kind of plan of his with as little effort on his part as possible?”

Zelda ‘s faced creased into a deep frown. “I—no. No, I’m not sure.”

“I don’t blame you for hoping. I’d have trusted my dreams, too, if that’s all I’d had, if—if I’d been in your shoes back then. Even so,” Ribbon replied in a small voice, hugging her trembling arms closer to her chest. “I’m just, just really worried. About Addie, about you and Snake. I mean, I don’t know what else I can do, beyond finding Addie and maybe helping you out, with what you want to do. But—but if even you’re not sure of your own ideas, then, I guess I’ll play it by ear.”

“I see. Then if Zero’s listening, I hope he hears your unwillingness to give up. Even without a plan, without additional contingencies, you’re still here.”

“But, Zelda,” Ribbon interjected, “what if that’s what Zero wants? He wants us to keep going, despite proving time and again that we’re nothing but disposable toys, or tools. If he really wanted us dead, he could’ve acted on it several times over by now. I just can’t understand it.”

The queen held out a spark on two of her fingers and set it at the base of the wood stack currently aflame. Tongues of vermillion light licked out in response, seeking a brief hold on the person that created them. “I’m unsure. Whatever the case, his motives are… unreachable, beyond the comprehension of people like us. I wouldn’t bother being concerned with them. Your goal is finding Addie, and my goal is finding answers that will bring us one step closer to ending all of this.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“About…?”

“About Zero’s reasons for doing this, or what you say they are. Beyond comprehension. Unreachable, or something like that.” Ribbon sniffled, her nose growing cold and red, despite the flames that swept the air in front of her face. “What if they’re not? What if they’re so grounded, so… so down-to-earth, that we’ve been looking at someone with motivations so close to home that we just straight up don’t know it?”

“Ribbon, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re getting at.” Zelda shifted a few inches closer to the fairy, hoping to provide an extra source of warmth, of comfort. “How could someone as sadistic as Zero ever be considered ‘down-to-earth’?”

“He’s called you selfish, and he has a personal vendetta. Ignoring whatever he wants to do with Snake, his fixations on us are just… weird.” Ribbon looked up into the queen’s eyes, and her eyes sparkled with an unnerving kind of vibrance, youthful vitality. “I mean, I know he’s said he wants to prove us wrong. What if, what if he’s just jealous?”

Zelda was bewildered. “What in the name of the goddesses would he have to be jealous of?”

“That we haven’t stopped trying to live. To be happy.”

The queen vehemently wanted to disagree, to shut Ribbon’s idea down, to quash that traitorous thought.

Oddly, she could find little reason to do so.

XxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to anyone willing to show their support!


	9. Resolve

The path Snake took carried him on a perpendicular course away from the river, cutting through swaths of trees left bare. With each step, his knees threatened to give out. It was odd, being concerned with how his joints in his legs connected and swung when there was so much more at stake, but his age hadn’t spared him.

_I’m curious. How long has it been since you’ve seen a reflection of yourself?_ Matt’s question was innocent enough. _You don’t look well, even when pieces of you aren’t dissolving into dust._

He ignored the gentle jibe and nearly walked headfirst into a tall trunk, imposing against the vacant sky, devoid of life, its weathered, wilted boughs empty. _Your job is to let me know where I’m going. Any other time, I need you to—_

_Shut up? Yes, I get it._ _For your sake, I will. But really, do you ever wonder where all your wrinkles went? You humans age so weird._

Grumbling softly under his breath, Snake plodded on. He rolled his left wrist, his hand slowly losing all feeling. Soon, he’d no longer be able to experience the sensation of touch, much less grab or hold.

As he moved, his diaphragm pushed up, down, his breath scraping like broken glass against his windpipe; he found the stabbing pain in his broken ribs getting harder to ignore. If he couldn’t die from physical trauma, could he still… lose it? Would his heart just stop beating, because his brain wouldn’t want it to? Because the effort put into it all did nothing useful?

_David._

If he ceased to care about any of this, how would his mind respond? Would the Dark Matter, nestled cozily in his brain, prevent it, keep him going on the bare minimum it took to survive? Snake liked to think he still possessed a measure of autonomy over his own body’s functions; even so, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see that he didn’t.

_David!_

“What?”

_There’s a large hotspot in a cave nearby. I suggest checking it out, if you’re up to it._

“Any hostiles?”

_None, for the moment. At least, not of the particularly active kind. When a signature of dark magic becomes especially dangerous, I’ll be sure to let you know. Honestly, by then, you might know about the threat at the same time I do._

Matt directed him north, following the sounds of the river upstream. For once, he had a concrete goal, an identifiable location, and he didn’t mind one bit.

The trees parted, offering a view that was only partially more miserable than his current one.

Looming silently, the mouth of a cavern reached into the depths of the earth, slanting down at a sharp angle. From what Snake could see of it, the first few feet were accentuated with boulders and obsidian slabs that acted like natural stairs. They sloped into an inky darkness, the heaviness of the air stifling as he approached. His steps were muffled, the surface he walked on smooth, like glass.

He steadied himself on the tunnel wall, stopping at the threshold where he could no longer see more than a couple of inches ahead. “You expect me to see through this?”

_Oh. I suppose you can’t. How fascinating. Is your eyesight really that limited? Here, I’ll help._

Then, what he could see grew several tints warmer. Snake was able to make out blurred steps carved into the ground, rocks haphazardly scattered with abandon, providing a serviceable, if not organized, path to tread down.

Snake began the climb, clambering with measured precision. “Is this how you normally see?” Even at a raspy whisper, his voice echoed clearly.

_Yes, and my kind can visualize internal energies as external forms, too. You’d call it an outline. Maybe the word “aura” would fit better._

“Huh.” In his mind, Snake communicated, _I think it’s best if we both shut up now._

Matt agreed.

The descent was uneventful. No soldiers popped out of an ambush, no arrows sought to embed themselves in his skin. Zero had yet to reveal himself. But as he walked deeper into the earth, the natural staircase carrying him down through the surface, Snake felt a low hum build toward the back of his skull, rising in pitch, growing in intensity. His eyes watered from the pressure, and he stopped momentarily to pinch the bridge of his nose. The space his right arm used to occupy burned with the ghost of long-past sensations, brought on by an addled mind.

Matt took advantage of his distraction to speak. _The magic… Do you find it irritating?_

_As all hell._

_Oh. That kind of makes sense. But, if this hotspot is anything like the last one, there’s bound to be some kind of core, where the energy is strongest. I’d suggest you keep moving._

Maybe his migraine wasn’t all because of magic. _No one’s ever told you to stop talking, have they?_

_Well, you just did, in a way. But I think that’s because my kind doesn’t really talk in the way you perceive sounds as “speech”. My thoughts manifest in your head as formulated, coherent words because I realize that’s the best way to communicate with you. Oh, I know. I could send you images, or certain thought waves that tell you how I’m feeling, or something. Would you like that, instead?_

_No. Just, stick to words._

_For your information, you did want me to shut up. Just keep that in mind. You did this to yourself._

Farther below, a pinprick of light beckoned, gleaming violet. Snake arrived on the last step, his foot splashing gently in water lingering only a few inches high. Squinting, he stepped forward, the tunnel around him opening into a circular chamber.

In front of him sat a pool of water, the banks leaking over onto the unyielding earth, its transparent depths shining with some inner glow from within the world’s center. Strewn along the ceiling were obsidian stalactites, some dripping with moisture, some frozen, a fragile shell of ice having crusted their jagged edges. Monoliths of crystal and stone dotted the area, arranged in arbitrary clumps and jumbled rows.

Snake sat down, cross-legged. Something about the place seemed harmless. The air was freezing, but it reminded him of what he was used to. Of home.

He dragged his evaporating finger through the water; it was frigid, even through the unresponsiveness of his skin. “You said there were no hostiles?”

_Yes. Still nothing._ Matt was incredulous. _You’re… not thinking of resting here, are you? Treat everything as you would an enemy. Even though you may feel a little safer, you’re not. Zero could pop up anywhere. And yes, I know you created this world, by extension, but it’s still Dark Matter._

“Exactly.”

_What?_

“It doesn’t matter where I go.”

He could imagine Matt frowning. _That’s… not what I meant._

Snake withdrew his finger. It had stopped dissolving.

_Wow. Um, that’s… incredibly unexpected. How’s your headache?_

“Gone.”

_Completely?_

“Yep.”

_Oh._ _Then, I don’t know what to tell you. I was worried that going to yet another repository would have sped the process up, but instead… This is really almost too good to be true. All my theories about our connection, about the origin of this world’s magic… Were they wrong?_

Snake had previously ignored how tired he was, but the temptation to sleep was now virtually inexorable. Even with another unnaturally authentic nightmare, it’d be worth it. He dipped his hand into the depths, swirled it around once, twice, three times. “What were you thinking?”

_So. Zero wished you into being, back into life, and used you as a kind of guiding light. He called on the darkness of the unknown to summon us, because not even he can work without starting with ingredients of a kind. I followed, merging with you. The access I had to your… negative energy, I guess, helped my kind on their way through. Zero used them, channeled their own dark magic—and by extension, your humanity—to create all of this. Everything you see here, in one form or another, is Dark Matter. That much you seem to have no trouble understanding._

“Sure.”

_Except, I was stuck with you, fused with your newly-revived, frail human form. Zero had us contained, put in stasis to study. I’m sure he never meant to keep us around for too long, but I’m also not sure how long he kept us locked away for. Then Zelda found us, and you know the rest._

“Should’ve left when you had the chance,” Snake said.

_You mean, before your body endured… all this?_

“Sure.”

_Perhaps. But I had a feeling… You were fascinating. I was just curious, but not without consequences for you, it seems. On the plus side, I now know how it feels to have an arm severed._

Snake grumbled. “Your point is?”

_Moving on. Through your connection to me, you are tied to the existence of Dark Matter in this plane. So long as I inhabit your form and this world exists, you will not die; you know this already. But, this connection… I was afraid it would eventually eat at your very essence, until there was nothing left of anyone resembling you. I thought that close proximity to high concentrations of Dark Matter energy would help you somehow channel that connection, aid you in regulating it._

“I’m assuming it’s worse when I get injured?”

_I assumed that, as well. In relying on the connection for life, you’re losing sight of what makes you “you”, becoming more like us. The more damage you take, the more you need me to keep you alive, and the more you start to… disappear._

Snake pulled back, his left arm having regained all feeling. “So, what’s all this, then?”

_I have no idea. I wonder, if you hang around this long enough, maybe you’ll stop hearing me. If the connection is severed and this area can heal your wounds, you will live. It really does sound like a win for you. No more lasting injuries, no more annoying voices in your head._

He considered it. “But you do seem to have most of the answers.”

_Do I?_

“Sure. At least, you’ve made up enough good ones to get me to believe you.”

Matt hummed. _Of course. But, don’t forget; your willingness to keep fighting is both what keeps us together, even now, and what gives you strength. Based on how stubborn you are, the link we share is all the stronger for it._

“But you could leave anytime. All you’d have to do is—”

_Take a chance to let you die? I refuse._

Snake exhaled, the aching in his chest gradually growing duller. He thought about taking a dip in the water and seeing what it would do, but even now, with a host of answers dangling within reach, there was a chance that this was all conjecture. There were so many chances to make things easier for himself, but all he had to bet with was his own body. Magic was a volatile thing, he could see. “Yeah. Okay.”

_“Okay”? Does that mean you… You’re all right with me staying?_

He grumbled, “For a little longer, at least.”

_Of course. Even so, I feel like… you should take the risk, seeing what the concentration of energy here can do to help you. I know you don’t want to lose any more of yourself than you have, but…_

Snake stared down at his reflection, the ripples send cascades through the mirror image. He winced, taking in the sight of his burned left cheek, his swollen nose caked with flecks of dried blood. Bags had gathered under his eyes; as he looked, he could feel his left twitching. A network of scabs crossed his exposed skin, colored black and purple by bruises in stark contrast to whatever flesh was left unsullied. Veins pumped violently in his neck, pulsating with an energy that radiated pure malevolence.

_I do think you need a break,_ Matt said. _You’ve been through plenty. For a human, your perseverance is almost admirable, but even you must have some kind of limit._

He was about to reply when he heard a faint bark resonate from within a nearby crystal formation. Snake turned, poised to strike.

A large, fluffy shape bounded out of the shadows and leapt onto his chest, slobbering, affectionate as it placed sopping licks on every part of him it could reach. He tumbled backward, landing hard on his back, his former pet perched above him.

Matt was too stunned to react beyond a stammering question. _Um, what is that?_

“He’s… one of mine.” Snake pushed the husky to the side and sat up, feeling fur that was very much tangible, very much real. “I remember. Hey, Imiq, down. Down, boy. Don’t do that.”

Imiq barked once, tail wagging happily, his tongue flopping from his open mouth, and Snake was struck by the oddness of it all. He remembered Imiq as one of the loose cannons of his litter, never knowing when to sit or run, always getting into snapping fights with the others.

It really was cute.

_Wait. Humans raise these, too?_ The intricacies of the moment seemed to be too great for Matt. _Perhaps I should stop being so surprised at all your species’… complexities. What’s so special about these “dogs”?_

Fighting a rattled laugh, Snake replied, “We’ll be here forever.”

But his deeper concern lay with how this had come to pass, how one of his closest companions had managed to manifest within his nearby vicinity, in all of his attention-demanding, furred glory. Every tuft of fur was in order, and each distinguishing black color marker indicated that this was indeed one of his dogs. If this world had been created through the conducting of his own memories, his experiences, trials, and tribulations, then—beyond himself, Dark Matter, and Zero—what did that say about the living beings that occupied it? Zelda, Addie, Ribbon… How did they factor into all of this?

_I’m amazed. It’s so… soft, and it’s letting you pet it. Just—it’s just sitting there._ Matt was unconvinced. _But why? Why do all of these odd and unusual things, for the sake of being able to call yourself a caretaker of life? Haven’t you got more pressing matters to deal with?_

Snake shrugged. “Maybe.”

_Oh. Okay._

“You seem confused.”

_I am._ Matt’s inflection was a fraction hoarser than normal when it next spoke. _I mean, I don’t ever know what to make of all this. There’s something about humans that makes them so strange… You raise flowers and dogs, both of which normally live shorter lifespans than your kind, if what I’m reading of your memories is true. Your impulses are short and fleeting, yet you so readily devote your futures—and the consequences that follow—to you acting on those impulses. You deny yourselves the chances to grow beyond a cycle of blame, both against those that seek to do harm and those who don’t._

Snake was about to counter with a verbal riposte when a sharp and familiar voice called out from the darkness. “Hello?”

He turned, and Zelda walked forward.

Something was off.

Her traveling robes had been replaced with a royal white Hylian dress, the fabric stitched with flawless precision, the pauldrons set upon her shoulders shining fiercely, clean, untouched. As her golden necklace jangled, her light brown hair tied back neatly, she emerged carefully, her steps splashing in water only a few inches high. “What… what is all this? I heard someone talking.”

“I—yeah. That was me.”

Vaguely, he registered that she was wearing what she most frequently wore during their tournament matches together. He remembered that detail with astute clarity, the images shockingly vivid in his recollections.

She scanned the room, no longer wielding the sword she used in this world. “What have you been doing? I mean, I’m not sure what to make of this”—she waved a noncommittal hand around the cavernous chamber—“but it’s interesting, to say the least.”

Her gaze then moved to the stab wound in his stomach, lingering a second longer on the ragged bandages, permanently stained red, that still covered his stump of a right arm. “You’ve been busy.”

_Are you going to tell her everything, now? She wanted answers, she wanted to end this all, but are you willing to give them to her?_ Matt’s words held no ill will, but it seemed that even the Dark Matter entity within Snake’s head wanted to know the outcome of this moment. Like a spectator of some outstanding performance, watching from the front row, inching onto the edge of the seat, Matt anticipated this reveal; its overwrought excitement was palpable. _Will you be the one to say that this “Zelda” may be an amalgamation of Dark Matter and your uncertain memories, a side effect of the very thing you once considered your “humanity”? Will she finally see that the only enemy she needs to care about is—and always has been—you, her “creator”?_

Snake got up, unarmed, a feeling of dread making itself at home in the pit of his stomach. Imiq stared first at his master, residual memories assuring the dog of his alliances, then at the mysterious woman who now advanced with vigilant tact, her boots clicking. He made no move to intervene.

Zelda took one more cautious step toward the luminous pool, toward Snake, and disappeared, melting into nothingness from the ground up. Last to go were her eyes, shining blue in the dark before the entirety of her body was swallowed by the all-seeing shadows.

He looked down. Imiq was gone, too.

Matt vocalized its thoughts out loud, using its own baritone voice to speak to an assembly of darkness, lacking hostility, feigning peace. “This confirms it, then. This repository, the dog, Zelda. Your connection to all of this…”

Stunned, Snake could only volunteer a question. “Why’d they disappear?”

“They were only brief flashes of your memories and experiences, given physical form for as long as this repository permitted. Zero’s power, channeling dark energy through you, was what initially allowed Ribbon and the others to exist. Having been given sentience, they now continue to live and simply refuse to fade. This was different, I guess.”

“But I never knew Ribbon or Addie.”

“Then that was Zero’s intervention, wasn’t it? His own memories of a child and a fairy, destroying what he thought would be a simple matter of conquest. Dark Matter is impressionable, and this was the result.” Matt hummed, “You may not have been fully aware, since—since I possessed you then, but the maggots, the burning body with one eye… Does it make sense, now?”

A child’s laughter, young, soulful and uplifting, rang through the hollow, resounding clear and high against the obsidian floors, the gathering of crystal and unresponsive earth. The water continued to flow, to swell with a gentle current from within its depths, carrying with it the recollections of many, the dreams from a distant shore.

Life carried on, every moment spent preciously, and Snake found himself at a loss. “I’m… not sure.”

“Well, what will you do now?”

Snake turned to see a soldier of Dark Matter hovering above the sodden cavern floor, lacking legs to stand on, or arms to reach out with. Its cape billowed from underneath a mane of pure darkness, spreading out from a mask that had one slit for its emerald green eye. It stared, unblinking, a predator calmly waiting for its prey to err in its judgment. A necklace, adorned with smoothed gemstones, bounced atop its ethereal chest.

“Matt?”

It spoke without a mouth. The voice it used was achingly familiar. “Oh, interesting. You can see me?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. That’s fine.” Matt flitted left, right, pacing and sweeping the chamber with its eye glaring green. “It’s the magic acting up again, I would assume. I haven’t actually separated from you. No, you’re just seeing a physical manifestation of me, like you’ve seen manifestations, echoes—if you will—of so many other people, objects, entities in your short human lifespan.”

Snake breathed yet another sigh. “What happens now?”

“That you know where this came from?”

He nodded.

“Well. I’m not sure. You could leave and try to find the others, and I could help track them. As creations bound to a similar source, I’m allowed that power, and so are they. With enough luck, you could find each other and figure it out then. Answers can no longer wait, and there is safety in numbers. Zero seems more intent, now more than ever, on pushing you to your breaking point.”

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know if you would be up for this, but I could help you trace Zero’s location and bring you to him. He’s more than capable of taking me away from you against my will, thereby taking your immortality. Even now, I’m never sure when he’s bluffing.”

“What could we do to him?”

The Dark Matter swordsman narrowed its gaze, its mask creased down the middle. “I’m not sure. Killing him may loosen his hold over my kind, and we will disperse. With no binding force, we’ll leave for the darkness we came from. His main power source will be gone, and with that departure, the rest of this world.”

“That’s… fine.”

“Remember, he has soundly defeated you before. You’ve only ever been able to fend him off. The teleporting could help you, but I’m worried should you ever have complete conscious control over this impulse. Will it only make your essence disappear, in the same way that staving off death does?”

Snake tightened the gauze around his right shoulder, wiped partially congealed blood away from his stomach. “What else can I do?”

At this, Matt let out a powerful sigh. “Before I answer that, I want you to tell me something, just to confirm what I’m seeing in you.”

“Shoot.”

“Would you consider your struggle for life a noble one?”

“What the hell kind of—”

“Just, answer it. Please. I need to be sure.”

“Can you elaborate, at least?”

“You’ve devoted your first life to saving the lives of others, so that none of them go to waste, so all of them have something to pass on beyond a physical form or a descendant. Even when you deserve something worth more, when you so greatly want to sleep your troubles away, are you willing to take on one more duty?”

“Does it matter how I answer?”

Matt thought. “Um. No, not really. I was just curious.”

“Fine. Then you don’t need one.” Snake knew what Matt was planning. “Just get it over with and tell me.”

“You could appeal to Zero, have him rend our connection willingly. You will die, perhaps Zelda too, but this world will remain. Anything tied to the recollections of your past life will disappear, and Zero will be free to expand this world into other dimensions, call upon more and more souls to act as bridges for a new empire of Dark Matter. Of my kind.”

“Why not just leave on your own?”

“The whole point is to seek and receive his… charity. He will consider it an act of mercy, if you will, for someone he knows has always been wrong.”

“And what would that do?”

“You’ll get what you deserve,” Matt said, gently. “You’ve lived hard lives, haven’t you? You’ve suffered immensely. I think—as, I’m sure, many others do—that you need time to rest. This should no longer be your burden to fix.”

“Anything else?”

“Same thing. Appeal to Zero, except this time to leave them alone, to only… punish you. I will remain within your head, to help you endure. They will come to no harm, not when he has already proven his point. You will offer your plea, and he will see you as selfish; you will suffer, but you’ll suffer knowing you did the right thing, by saving yourself from the mental pain of failing them, of getting them killed. You’ll fuel his ego sufficiently, ensuring their survival, and it’s up to you to decide if the sacrifice is worth it.”

Snake stared into the pool for a long while, gazing mutely at his rippling reflection, taking in the wrinkles on his own battered face, the restrained sadness in his features. He sat down heavily. “If I’m gone, Zelda is, too. When Zero is left, his memories stay.”

“Addie and Ribbon, yes. In theory.”

_They’re just kids._ The thought was unbearable. _Even if they are just… constructs…_

“Remember, they are more than capable of surviving. Or, they were imagined into this existence as capable. Zero’s past is an enigma, even to me. But without a large enough group of people to help, they won’t ever be any sort of threat. Zero will let them live, knowing there’s nothing they can do.”

Snake continued looking into the depths, his thoughts focused miles away.

“I see how you feel. Zelda, having to rely on your life to live her own… Addie and Ribbon, their conscious minds having no say, instead being victims of how Zero remembers them…” Matt added, “It’s hard to believe, sometimes, but there is nothing important about destiny here. You are not obligated to defeat him, nor are you obligated to live or die. Being a throwaway tool sometimes has its benefits. You’ve found your answers, and you can choose your own fate, starting now. With your choices, maybe, something good will happen.”

“Aren’t you turning your back on Zero, then?”

“I already have. If I return, I know he will enact punishment. It’s not death I fear; I never learned how to feel that, even from you, from someone mortal. No. I fear what he will do to others, what he will inflict on people who don’t know better than to struggle through life, like you, like the people you have endured and died with. He calls you selfish. I prefer… brave, but stupid.”

“Fine by me,” Snake said, grinning sardonically.

“I made this choice,” Matt said. “Sure, you are all still weird, and impulsive, and sometimes don’t consider every alternative. Occasionally, you are irritating and immature because of it, but I stand strong. Maybe, when things wrap up, I will no longer exist. But I trust your judgment. As someone who knows so much more about the passage of time, of humanity than I… Find the best solution, for your sake, for everyone’s. Don’t let their efforts—to live or die happy—be in vain.”

The next few minutes seemed to last forever. His missing arm ached, a ghost lingering faintly, reaching out toward something it could no longer find nor take hold of. As he thought, remembered first walking the tormented earth, surrounded by beings that echoed both his deepest miseries and the events of his past, he thought about Zelda, Addie, and Ribbon.

In something as vile and cruel as Zero’s vision, people could still find each other.

He remembered the field of white flowers, the image of the grave tarnished by time. Whether it had been real, tangible or not, was meaningless; it didn’t matter. The message was the same.

“Lead me to Zero,” was what Snake finally said.

XxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (To those who have read and followed from the beginning, thank you for your support and feedback!)


	10. Crossroads

“So,” Ribbon muttered, “we’re getting closer.”

Zelda pulled her sword from a soldier’s corpse, currently dissolving as it floundered, gasping with an empty, hissing breath. “I would assume so.” The increasing number of soldiers, appearing from the darkness, their first breaths a scathing diatribe to those who still sought to live, had told her enough. “But, since when did Addie and Zero’s signatures overlap?”

“Since a while ago,” replied the fairy. “Couldn’t you sense it?”

“No. But perhaps there was some kind of interference on my end.” Her thoughts immediately drifted to Snake, how his energies had been so strong, so resonant she had little room for any other trace of life. “It’s happened before. You’re also more familiar with Addie, so you can tell her aura apart from others fairly easily.”

Ribbon was too busy to reply immediately; her attention was focused on a Dark Matter soldier, lunging forward, its curved blade pulled back. The Shard punched through its armor, and there was a sound akin to crumpling paper as it lost momentum and collapsed, shuddering.

Zelda volunteered her own question. “How did Addie get that close to Zero’s palace on her own?”

Secretly, she knew the answer; she wasn’t stupid.

But Ribbon glanced down at the floor, running bruised fingers through her pink, grime-streaked hair. There was a measure of hesitation in her eyes. “She—Zero could have found her. I don’t want to think about that, though. She’s tough.”

“She was worried she didn’t do enough for the two of you.” Zelda wasn’t really sure of what propelled her to speak, but speak she did. “She wanted to be useful, to both of you.”

“But, she was…” Ribbon tilted her head, an almost comical gesture that would have made Zelda laugh in any other situation. “She was important. Not, not just because of what she could do, or because of her knowledge of survival. No, she’s a real person, too. I liked being with her, talking with her. We didn’t agree on everything, but that’s only natural, I guess…”

Was it Zelda’s imagination, or was Ribbon blushing? “Do you have feelings for her?”

The fairy’s cheeks turned scarlet. “Um. I’m not good with the sappy talk, Zelda. I don’t know; I mean, I think she’s neat, and she’s always so in control of her paintbrush, and I’ve always thought that it’s really cool how she does art. I mean, we already were friends, but—”

“But?”

“But I—I’ve never known how to approach her… I’ve never told her, and she’ll think that my feelings are pointless, because neither of us can fully act on them without somehow endangering one another. She thinks my sentiment will go to waste, or something.”

“There’s a chance of that happening, no matter where you are.” Zelda couldn’t resist a lopsided smile. “If I’ve learned anything from being attracted to someone, it’s that, for better or for worse, both parties will be happier if only truths are spoken.”

“So… You want me to tell her anyway.”

“Yes.”

“Despite the fact that she will most likely not believe me, or something. Or call me an idiot and move on.”

“Really? You’d treat each other that way?”

“No, no, sarcastically.”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah! We’re close like that, y’know.”

Zelda nodded.

“Wondering about Addie and I together… It’s strange,” Ribbon said, her train of thought lost. “Really, I should’ve remembered how we got here by now. We were fighting Dark Matter together on my home planet, we won, and then, I’m not sure. We both woke up, together.”

Absentmindedly, the Crystal stabbed through an archer, perched unawares in the boughs of a tree. It fell to earth, armor clanking, dark steam whistling from underneath its helmet. Ribbon continued speaking. “I’m also not sure about the Shard. Addie and I got here, but I was unarmed. The moment I wished for a weapon, I summoned it, and it just kind of… appeared. It helped that Addie was there. I felt better with her close to me, which is maybe how I was able to even create it in the first place.”

“I should be able to tell what it’s powered by,” Zelda said, “since I can detect magic signatures, as well. But I’d like you to elaborate.”

“Oh, okay. It’s mostly just… pure magic, but it functions better in the hands of someone who has another person’s welfare in mind. A bond is formed between the Crystal and the wielder, and that bond must be created for the sake of someone close to you, or to the greater purpose and well-being of a collective. I’m starting to remember, now.” Ribbon rubbed her forehead. “That was basically my role, forming that connection out of love, essentially. Queen Ripple wanted me to be a steward, I guess would be the word.”

“Hmm.” They continued their trek, the world tilting beneath them. Cracks jutted from between unkempt hills, spires of obsidian shaped like arching lightning. “So that bond could even transcend dimensions.”

“Yeah, it’s powerful stuff.” The fairy kept a watchful eye out for further opposition. “I don’t completely understand how I was able to create it, especially in a world that is inherently hostile to anything remotely positive, but whatever. Addie would tell me that it doesn’t matter where it came from. Her way of keeping me focused.”

“Do you think it matters?”

“I mean, sure. I’d like to know where my powers came from. Answers would be really, really nice.”

Abruptly, a massive shape loomed over their path, towering into the heavens, standing tall, impassive above the landscape. Its shadow stretched into the distance, meeting the sweeping horizon line at end and beginning of oblivion. Fissures wound their way up the mass of black stone, boulders arraigned in disorganized clumps at the base of the structure, its organic form fluid, indistinct even when set aglow by lightning strikes.

Zelda’s senses confirmed it; they were standing at the base of a concentration of magic, the largest of its kind that she had seen yet.

To Ribbon, she said, mesmerized as she stared upward, “You may get them, soon enough.”

XxX

In a different part of the world, Snake and the spirit nestled inside his head took shelter behind a slab of loose volcanic glass. Nearby, a soldier tromped side to side, its battle-axe held at the ready. They heard it move, clanking about noisily, with all the tact and forethought of a raging bull.

_Matt,_ Snake thought, reaching out. _Your body, the one I saw in that cave…_

_Yes? What of it?_

_Do you have a weapon?_

_Of course. I’m a soldier like them, but more… ghostly in nature. I use a sword, in case you were wondering._

_Doesn’t matter, just as long as you have one._

_Fine. Are you asking me to physically manifest and cut this one down?_

_Zero said you have the power to leave my body anytime. It’s just that you choose not to._

_David. We’ve been over this._ Matt seemed tired, bogged down with a clueless infant. _If I leave you, even for a fraction of a moment, you will die. In your admittedly… uncharacteristic haste, you chose not to stay in that cave, and I can’t protect you from the thing that should have claimed you by now, if I’m no longer there._

_But if you’re fast enough…_

It heaved what could have been a sigh. _I’m not sure how instantaneous it will be, but I don’t want to take any kind of chance. Not when everything you’ve fought—rather, lived for—is on the line._

He conceded and prepared to move. Muffling his steps, Snake edged around the back of the rock formation, slightly bent over. If he really was making noise, the Dark Matter soldier still had not picked up on it. _Are you sure you can’t just clone yourself? You don’t have to separate for that._

_No, I don’t. But the magic here isn’t sufficient for making another copy of myself that is able to actually hold a blade. I could create an image, but it won’t last long, and it may attract too much attention. The soldier will go on the alert. Now’s not the time for that idea, but when we get to Zero, things could change. Be ready._

After a pulse-pounding moment, during which the spirit warrior came close to checking behind the rocks, it turned away and focused its attention on the horizon line. Snake crept out, drawing a wide circle around the patrol, giving it a sizeable berth. He continued on his path, unheeded, occasionally ducking behind cover and glancing ahead, planning for his next action. His body was having trouble keeping up, and there were multiple times he was afraid of simply losing balance, of keeling over without rhyme or reason. Matt had hypothesized the uncontrollable teleporting only became a problem around Zero specifically, but Snake feared the worst.

Another soldier stalked by, hissing, its footsteps jarring, the sounds of its steel halberd scratching, dragging against hardened obsidian a disjointed chorus. Snake held his breath and waited, holding an arm out onto the rocks for support.

He peeked over the barrier; the halberdier had its back turned.

Snake traveled swiftly, ducking by. Now this, of all places, was familiar territory.

_Years of experience, traveling your world, avoiding detection,_ Matt stated through its thoughts, almost admiringly. _You really have done many things. What do they call you, a legend?_

_Sure._

_But you would rather not be called that, I can see. Are—are legends really all that expendable to your kind?_

The thoughts and sentiments people shared about him did little. He had often wondered how much of who he was factored into these stories, rather than just what he had done, what latest terrorist plot or madman’s scheme he had recently unfurled and brought to light. To many, he was most likely little more than a news clipping—one meant to sell, to catch the eye with sensationalist stories of a hero, the one who “makes the impossible possible”. All that, even before being branded a criminal…

_Oh. Disenfranchisement. I get it._

On instinct, Snake bristled. _Got anything to say?_

_No. After all, what could I add that would be useful? I know next to nothing of your world’s bureaucracies, beyond what I can see in your mind. But you’ve been betrayed by so many people and establishments, and I think that’s sufficient grounds for your suspicion._

Snake was at the base of the formation, its vastness on a scale previously unseen. _Are you sure this is the right place?_

_Zero is one of my kind,_ Matt said, _and the one who allowed us passage. Well, technically, you did help with that, so thank you, I suppose._

_You didn’t answer my question._

Matt gave a low grunt. _I was trying to say that I know him well, and that I recognize his life energy, so yes. We’re in the right place._

Faltering, Snake looked up. The top of the obsidian palace was a mere pinprick, disappearing into the dark lilac, lavender-speckled skies. _Can you locate exactly where he is in this?_

_No. Beyond the threshold is a cluster of Zero’s specific kind of magic that is… unbelievably overwhelming. I can’t really distinguish anything inside; it’s all one big mess, as you would call it._

As a hasty afterthought, Matt chimed in. _Be careful, David. You have people you need to look after, and a few of them are due to come, soon._

Snake should have seen it. _Zelda and Ribbon?_

_I suppose Addie is here, and like the selfish oddities that they are, they’ve come looking to save her life. To ease their own consciences. I guess it’s fine, if a bit annoying._

_They can take care of themselves._

_Yes, I am well aware. But wouldn’t you like to help?_

It was then that Snake, as distant and detached as he was, remembered who he was dealing with. _He’s a sadist._

Matt replied, softly. _Yes. He is. And nothing you say will change his ways. He is set on proving you wrong, on making you all out to be fools._ It did its best to lighten up the situation. _But since I already consider you a fool, since I’ve already gotten to know you, I’m immune. Don’t worry. He won’t convince me._

Snake breathed deep. This was his last chance, the moment where his decision was sealed. He vowed to himself that once he stepped over the threshold, into Zero’s halls, that he would no longer allow himself to run or hide. For their sake, he’d see this through.

Matt stopped him, briefly. _I never got to tell you this, but even when I considered you an enemy, I had always admired you, in a roundabout way. Your past has always been questionably moral, and your ways of expressing humanity puzzling and contradictory, but there’s one thing you did well… You never took “no” for an answer._

_Don’t get sappy with me._

_Mmm. It’s something I learned from you._ The Dark Matter swordsman laughed gravely. _For better or for worse, human, it’s been educational._

XxX

The halls were empty. Zero’s soldiers were nowhere to be seen. Lonely torches crafted from irregular pockets in the stone that encased them flickered, casting an eerie gleam that seemed to cut through the obsidian walls, illuminating their cores like the hearts of glass mirrors.

Already, Snake could feel his head beginning to throb. He leaned against the hallway, steadied his breath. He saw Zero, a fragment of a recollection, holding him up as his arm bled out, taunting him, mocking his instincts, his very needs for life. He felt electricity boiling his blood, bursting veins, charring skin. Through both lifetimes, he’d faced countless things to be feared. His experiences should have prepared him, but the memories could not be denied; terror had taken root.

He found it odd, knowing how little of a chance he had of coming out alive, yet walking toward the end all the same, fearing it because of what he could no longer have. If he was going to be honest, he already knew how it felt—both to discard life’s value for duty’s sake, and to simply die—but knowing didn’t make the sensation of his upcoming death any softer.

_You’ve… done this before?_

_What?_

Matt was stunned. _You’ve—oh. Unbelievable. How many instances of these impossible death-marches do you have hidden in that brain of yours? How many times have you dragged yourself on, with only your sheer force of will to keep your heart from bursting?_

_I told you already. I’ve had practice._

_Here and now, at what feels like the closing of your journey… There are still so many things I have yet to see inside this thick skull of yours. It’s all so overwhelming._

Snake shook his head, clearing away the stars. He drew away from the wall and began to walk, his steps resolute, pounding with a strong certainty.

_This will most likely be painful beyond imagination,_ Matt warned, its voice failing. _You’ve seen how potent his magic is, and, and you’re only human. You—you’ll feel as though you want to end it, to get it over with before a conclusive finale can be reached, before you can assure their safety._

_What makes you assume that?_

_David. I can feel what you feel._ Matt’s words trembled, breaking inflection. _You’re… oh, goodness. You’re scared. Terrified. Less about what he could inflict upon you and more about what he’ll do to them. You don’t want to lie down for him, but necessity makes it so. You’ve rarely dealt with magic on this scale, and you’ll have to face him with very little equipment to back you up. You’ve never been able to completely fend Zero off without help, or luck, or his own curious “goodwill” leading him to spare you._

Snake kept moving. Having one mind was bad enough. Having another, nestled inside the first, echoing his sentiments back at him so clearly—

_I’m sorry. Really. I am. I—it’s all so much. How can you deal?_

He offered no answer.

A branching path beckoned, and Snake, somehow convinced this was the right way, walked onto it. He felt the cold of the whistling air breezing by, disturbing the torches’ dance, and yet, he was distant. Detached. His conscious mind had drifted away, anchored itself to the pier of a different shore, perhaps steeling itself, readying for the storm that would soon come.

His vision flickered. Blinking rapidly, he turned a corner and came face to face with Ribbon and Zelda.

For a moment, neither party knew what to do.

Ribbon spoke up first. Her youthful face widened in concern. “You… you look awful, Snake.”

He was too tired, too tense to do little more than nod.

“How are you holding up?” Zelda took a step closer, and Snake backed up a step. She froze, taking in the congealed wounds in his stomach, a look of something like detached sorrow written in her eyes. “You’ve come a long way.”

_That fall was fatal. They thought you were dead._

_I’m not surprised._

“We’ve determined that both Addie and Zero are nearby,” Zelda said, tenderly. “I’m sure that, somehow, you’ve figured that out as well. Sorry, I can’t help but mention… I’m—also reading a second distinct energy signature inside you, but it’s not exactly hostile. Just, kind of neutral.”

“Yeah, I’m getting it too,” Ribbon piped up. “Guess you don’t have to be paranoid anymore, Zelda.”

_You can’t tell them,_ Matt said. _They want answers, but… they might never recover. They need to see the world as clear-cut; you need to be their ally. If you told them the truth of their existence, their lives would cease to be real to them. This is your burden to bear, and you’ve convinced yourself of that already. No. You don’t need me. At this point, I’m just a tape recorder, spitting back what you’ve already told yourself._

To Ribbon, he murmured, “Is Addie here, too?”

“Yeah. I’ve located her life force.” She picked up on his subdued mood. “She’s… a few rooms down.” The answer was framed casually, as if she were merely giving directions for a lost house guest on his way to a party. “It’s a miracle I was able to see her through all this dark magic, but… here we are.”

Snake faced the queen. “Zelda.”

“Yes?”

He felt a twinge of remorse asking her for so much, making them endure his mistake, watch what he was about to do. “I need a weapon.”

At this, a slight smile creased her worn, sharp face, and the guilt buried itself deeper in his chest. “I thought you would never ask.” She reached down to her belt, unbuckled a second sheath. “I carry around extras, in case one ever breaks. I hope this is of use to you; just try not to lose this one, this time.”

He accepted it with a quick nod. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Zelda said, the relief in her face clear as day.

_Well,_ Matt forced out, _now you know where she got these weapons. Constructs, all of them. You vaguely remember her as someone well-prepared, orderly, ready to face any challenge. Dark Matter filled in the blanks. I assume you won’t tell her this, either._

_Right._ Snake was undeterred. _I’ll need your help._

_What is it?_

_Find the room._

Matt obliged, showing him the way.

Without another word, he walked off.

“Snake, hold on,” Ribbon called to him. “We—we need to get back in touch, us three, and formulate a plan; we don’t know what’s going on in there, and we can’t just rush in blindly—”

Like clockwork, he kept going.

_You really should listen to her, my friend,_ muttered Matt. _I know you have priorities, but you can’t just leave them—_

_Like hell I can._

The Dark Matter swordsman was quiet. Then, it asked, _You’re doing this to save them, aren’t you? Or, at least, you think it will._

_They don’t need to be involved._

_Oh. Your sense of duty is… almost tragic. I wonder, who needs this more? You, or them?_

Again, he felt that sharp stab, knowing he was keeping secrets. They wouldn’t find out the truth until it came hurtling down on them. Whatever happened next was his responsibility, and his alone.

By chance, he was the catalyst; now, he would own up to his role. No matter what it took, he’d be the one to end it.

XxX 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I honestly can't believe some of you enjoyed this enough to keep reading... honestly this became more of a messy exercise in tragedy and characterization than an actual story for me)  
> (Even so, thank you. The final confrontation is next.)


	11. Darkness of the Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want something suitably moody and angsty, [here you go.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oa0yMbqtyRQ)

Snake stepped into the chamber, crossing the threshold.

He saw Addie lying on her side, back turned to him, curled into a fetal position. From what he could tell, she was still breathing; if he focused, he could make out a pulse, a slow rise and fall of her chest.

He eyed Zero sitting on a rock not too far away, arms resting on his knees. The look in his eye was distant, foreign. The only source of light in the room was his halo, glaring, harsh, its luminescent shine cold, unfeeling.

No one spoke.

“You’re being awkward,” Zero said faintly, not bothering to make eye contact with his guest. “Don’t just stand there, old man. You can take it all in easier if you come closer.”

Acquiescing, the mercenary approached.

“It’s strange,” the fallen angel said, his voice rough. “I can’t fathom it, and I’ve thought about it for ages. You want so badly to save them from a fate like yours, you’ll sacrifice everything of worth to do it. Your desires—to preserve their lives and to live yours, to defend what you know—are at direct odds with each other, and yet… Somehow, you’re still going. Still selfish.”

Snake knelt at Addie’s side, used his remaining arm to turn her over onto her back.

Dimly, he noticed his hand was shaking.

It hadn’t begun to dissolve, yet.

Addie was breathing evenly, her right cheek puffy with a green and black bruise, her black hair scattered around her closed eyes. Scrapes lined her jaw, angry and red. Her skin was ghastly pale.

Besides those details, she seemed fine.

“So, does she pass inspection?”

Snake stood and got to the point. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing, really.” Zero rose from his impromptu chair, cracking his neck. “But I know you’ve come here with a number of goals. First, you’ll try to kill me. If that fails, you’ll appeal to my… ‘sadistic tendencies’. If you can only offer me yourself, with which I can experiment with, then this may work. You could still save them, and by extension, save yourself. Regardless of what I... do, to you.”

 _He’s a hypocrite,_ Matt reminded. _He prides himself on fulfilling his own needs, his cravings for power._

“But I think you’re forgetting one simple thing, David. You undignified, despicable dog. You witless clone.” Viciously, a brutish glare on his face, Zero stalked closer. It took all of Snake’s composure to remain where he was. “You’re a tool, an object to use. Once. And, since you’ve put me through all this work and effort to keep you and your hitchhiking friend in line… I’ve lost interest. Now you’re just annoying. A nuisance. A mistake that needs killing.”

With unimaginable speed, he reached out, grabbing Snake by the throat.

The moment he felt pressure building around his neck, Snake teleported.

Zero turned around in time to see the mercenary dash forward and stab a knife through his chest. The blade went in smoothly, and Snake pulled it back out; in, out. Blood sprayed, and Zero pushed away, winged closer to the chamber entrance.

He had only made it a few feet before he faltered, collapsing, holding a bloodstained hand over his wounds. Gasping, the warlord stuttered, “That—that won’t happen again.”

Snake pushed his advantage, and Zero melted into darkness.

“Keep doing that, then. Keep fighting.” Zero’s voice echoed, imperious, bounding against jagged crystal formations. “You’ll see why it’s not worth it. I’ve considered just pulling the Dark Matter out of you, and letting you die that way. The other way, while fun, would take too long. I could also let you suffer, then kill you by taking Dark Matter from you just before the connection overtakes you, but then again, there’s always that one option… Hmm. Decisions, decisions.”

“How long are going to hide?”

“Me, hide? No, no, I’m just taking a while, because I’m in such awe at how you command Dark Matter, how you take advantage of your connection. I’m sure there _won’t be any repercussions you’ll come to regret_ —”

There was a footstep behind him, and Snake leapt to the side; Zero’s lightning missed him by mere inches. He somersaulted out of the way and came up running, bounding after a now fully materialized Zero, seeking his blind side. In preparation for the strike, Snake brought his knife up—

Zero was waiting; he swung back, but Snake had shifted again, this time appearing on Zero’s other side, giving him no space to react. He drove the dagger home, piercing the flesh of his upper arm, slicing through his worn traveling robes.

A wing cuffed him on the side of the head, and Snake was sent tumbling. Breathing hard, his headache building in vengeance, he flicked blood off his knife and steadied himself on his feet. He faced Zero, waiting for him to lunge—

He did, and Snake disappeared, only to reappear behind Zero, out of the reach of his wings. The warlord had a sphere of dark energy prepared, heating the room with the smell of burning wood and rising sulfur; this he launched behind him without looking.

Snake sidestepped, brought his dagger to bear once more. Flinging himself forward with reckless abandon, he slashed down Zero’s back, severing one of his six wings, opening a wide cut over his spine—

Zero roared but did not fall. He lashed out, tossing drops of blood, blinded by rage and pain; a spell hit Snake squarely in the chest, and the impact propelled him backwards, slamming him into a tower of lavender crystal. He felt his snapped ribs from earlier crack further, and he fought down a scream as he slid to the floor and landed in a haphazard heap.

The space around him filled with silence. His own heartbeat was deafening; he could feel the pulse in his neck pounding a steady rhythm against his strained windpipe.

Slowly, he became aware of the burning agony in his head. Gritting his teeth, he sat up. At his side, he heard something clank to the ground. His knife must have fallen from his hand.

Then, he realized he could no longer feel his left arm.

Dazed, fear nagging at the back of his skull, Snake looked down.

What skin he could see was nothing but a fuzzy, amorphous shape made of shadows. Black ash flew, and the pungent smell of sulfur, burning wood filled his nose, overwhelming all other senses. His eyes watered, stinging.

Behind Zero, Snake could see Zelda and Ribbon dart in, bending over Addie’s unconscious form.

The sight jolted him, stirred him from his pain-induced haze. He needed to keep going. What good would he be to anyone half-dead?

“Oh. Look at that.” Zero, his chest no longer bleeding, bent over Snake; his wounds seemed to have healed. “This is very familiar. See? I told you your connection with Dark Matter would be your downfall, because you’re still so incapable—”

He lunged on instinct. Snake shot to his feet and kicked forward, his movements a blur. He didn’t have time to think about why his reactions were still the way they were; there was only the act, the feeling of keeping himself alive for just a few more minutes—

Zero evaded with the gracefulness of a dancer. “Weak,” he snarled, landing a series of punches into Snake’s stomach, ripping the stab wound open again, tearing away the loose clots and scabs. “What happened to all that motivation?”

Snake crumpled against Zero, coughing up blood. The warlord held him up with one forceful hand, turned him around, and pushed him flush against a nearby wall.

Was it just him, or were his legs going numb, too?

The others… Zelda, Ribbon.

Were they watching?

Snake had little time to consider it before Zero pulled his head back by the hair and slammed it forward into the obsidian glass.

He blacked out.

XxX

“All that effort,” Zero mumbled to himself, “and for what? He’s a cripple, an invalid. I don’t even know why I bother.”

He tossed Snake, now unconscious, into the center of the room.

Together, Ribbon and Zelda put Addie behind them. The fairy flew in front, her Shard a beacon. “Don’t do anything to him. You’ve done enough.”

“Again, I don’t think your definition of ‘enough’ is accurate. At least, not to me. But, really, since when did you consider my opinions as noteworthy? I’ll answer for you: never. Never. And that’s fine.” Zero winced as he straightened his back, running one hand over the stub of his missing wing, still oozing blood. “I can deal with that, since I know who you people are, and why your opinions matter so little.”

Zelda raised her sword and stepped forward. In reply, Zero placed one foot on Snake’s chest, slowly applying pressure as he prepared a spell in one hand. “No, no. Wait your turn, my dear. There’s enough to go around.”

She backed off, her teeth gritted. “Would you care to enlighten us?”

Zero looked at her. “My. You really are annoying. But I suppose you’re too stupid to figure it out on your own. All right, you mindless creation, you worthless fragment of an even more worthless memory. I’ll clue you in. Your friend here”—he indicated Snake with a violent wave of his hand—“is the reason this world exists. It was a simple matter of inviting Dark Matter into this cute little pocket of a world and letting it multiply, take different forms to suit my needs. Do you want to know how I got them here, Zelda?”

The previous sentences had yet to completely register. “What? Snake was—I don’t know how that can even… I, that’s not possible.”

“Well, I’m not surprised.” He stared down at the man under his foot, who was just beginning to regain consciousness. “You are senseless beyond belief. Nothing really seems to make sense to you people until it comes around and slaps you across the face. Isn’t that right, _David_?” His last word dripped with venom, caustic, sharp; the name itself was a curse that he uttered with all possible cruelty. “It took you people so incredibly long to see it, and even then, I wonder if your kind could fully comprehend it all.”

“Get on with it,” Ribbon snapped, her words forceful, thick with rage. “Why him?”

“Mmm. Well, not even I could’ve created something from nothing. I needed a vessel, a kind of conduit to call Dark Matter to my side of the world. So, I made a wish, just like any of your people would, asking for good fortune before celebrations, before a time of change. Out of that wish, I called his dead spirit back to the land of the living. It was fine; he didn’t complain much.”

Zelda tightened her free hand, digging into the palm of the gauntlet. “You used him.”

“That I did. Y’know, I feel like I shouldn’t be telling you this, but… I’m sure you’ve heard of someone who was a victim of circumstance. Right? Like a lottery, or something to do with random chance. That’s all he was. Wishes aren’t an exact science, after all.”

“A coincidence?” Her heart fit to burst, Zelda reined in her anger, her pure, unbridled rage. In this impractical nightmare of a world, she had been terrified, pained, inflicted with profound agony, but the storm of this revelation…

It was without equal.

Ribbon had been wrong. How could what Zero wanted from an inconsequential, trauma-ridden stranger be compared to anything remotely human?

Ignorant of these thoughts, Zero pushed on. “Sure. You could call him that. But then, something interesting happened. The aura of this world you saw, mixed with mine? In channeling his negative memories, the secrets and lies he would have gladly kept to himself, my memories surfaced alongside his. Dark Matter gave them all physical form.” 

“And where are these memories?”

“Really? Are you actively choosing to be this dense?” Zero raised an eyebrow. “If you have a mirror on hand, you really should use it.”

XxX

“I… I don’t follow.”

Zero frowned. “Of course you don’t. But, let me tell you something. Remember how you thought I was so deeply concerned with your past? I wasn’t. You’re an echo, a glimpse into something seen through his fogged-up window, his imperfect lens of the world.

“All this talk of good and bad energies… Does it matter? You and Ribbon saw what you wanted to see. The enemy was clear, and your suspicions had to be justified. His residual memories of you didn’t want you to be lazy, inattentive. How cute is that? Snake wanted so badly to see and remember you as a good person that you became a ‘good person’, and your ‘aura’ distinguished you as such. Dark Matter was never truly the evil one. They enjoy negative feelings, but since when is anything ever as simple as good and bad?”

“That’s… Okay, that’s just a straight up lie.” Out of habit, Ribbon grabbed for Addie’s hand, seeking to wake her up. “They, they were the ones that came after my planet. They possessed people!”

“I commanded them, Ribbon.”

The fairy shook her head, her bow frantic as it bounced atop her hair. “I just, just don’t know if I can trust… I mean, I don’t know; I can’t believe I’m still, actually, trying to pay attention to you.”

Zero spread his arms wide. “Why would I keep the truth hidden? It’s what you people need the most.”

Ribbon wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the light from the Crystal shining on the tears running down her dirtied cheeks. Zelda wanted so much, then and there, to just ignore what Zero had to say and finally be done with the whole thing. Warmth gathered in her free hand, and a glow of cardinal, vermillion flames wreathed her arm.

“Zelda, I’m not blind. I see you. But are you really going to do that? Can you really endanger his life in that way? Can you take responsibility for whatever happens to him next? I’m sure you’ll feel bad about getting him killed, but then again, there’s always so much more to it than that.”

A short smile wound its way across Zero’s cheeks.

_His wounds were fatal. Unless, they weren’t._ Dark Matter, the connection, all the mistreatment piled on him… “He can’t die, can he?”

“Well, you’re partially right. He hasn’t died yet, but there’s always a breaking point.” A single bloody tear fell down Zero’s face, lingering a second longer on his sharp chin before dropping to the earth. He trudged back from Snake, who stirred uneasily, spitting, coughing madly. “Which makes him unique, because if he hasn’t already dropped dead, then I can do this—”

Zero waved his hand; the response was instantaneous. The obsidian beneath their feet began to rumble, and Zelda already knew what was to come. She opened her mouth to shout, to cry, to call out a warning, anything that might do _something to save him;_ he was nearly done for but that didn’t matter—

There was the vicious crack of a crystal spear breaking through flat ground, rising toward the sky. The lurid ripping of flesh, muscle, and the shattering of bone resounded. Zelda swallowed back her bile, quickly turned away, but hiding her face wouldn’t block out Snake’s scream of agony: bitter, pained, desperate.

The spire had pierced his ribcage, tearing through where his liver was, impaling him as he lay on his back. Blood gathered on the floor, trickling weakly; the spike was pressing up against burst vessels, damming them shut, stemming the flow.

“Look,” Zero said softly, biting back further tears, speaking over Snake, whose tired gasps caught in his bloodied throat. He writhed on the floor, huffing, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He sucked in a heaving breath only to wheeze it back out, shallow, what remained of his face pale. “Look at that. He’s trying so hard to stay conscious, it’s almost cute. Don’t you think?”

Zelda could barely watch.

Around the puncture site, the veins turned black, spreading outward underneath his clothes and bandages with the faint scent of burning wood and steaming sulfur. Snake’s eyes flashed red, then blue; he convulsed as something inside him fought for control.

It was only a matter of time before he lost.

XxX

Snake was no stranger to pain, but…

He was tired.

 _I know it hurts,_ Matt said, voice breaking. _I know you want me to leave, I know you want it to end. You don’t want to live to watch something worse than me take over. But he won’t be satisfied until he hears you beg for your life, and we both know you can’t give him that chance._

_They’re safe until you give in._

_Please, stay with me._

XxX

“At this point,” mused Zero, “his reliance on the connection should have devoured him completely. Incredible. Even without Dark Matter, he’s barely human. Then again, I suppose this is what I get for… opposing the laws of nature, or something.”

There was a rustle of a cape behind him; Zero whirled and was held at sword-point by a Dark Matter swordsman, its head a mane of darkness, its one green eye piercing the gloom of the chamber, emerald light radiating off its bejeweled necklace. “Why, hello to you, too. Have you finally left his body, now that you’ve seen how pointless resisting me is? Did you decide to let him die?”

“No. There’s enough magic here to maintain two versions of me, I think.”

“That’s very resourceful of you, um… What did you want Snake to call you? Matt, was it?”

“You’re correct.”

“Then, Matt. Do you really think you’re better than me? Can you really rise above what you were meant to do? I’m your superior. I’m the one who called you here, you traitorous, empty husk. I have seen things your kind, with your barbaric attraction to misery and sorrow, would simply fail to believe. You thought humans were complex? Why don’t you ask me a few questions, then? Maybe you’ll understand it all better.” Zero shook his head, disparaging himself. “No, no. Why would I let you ask me anything? You can’t doubt me. You just can’t.”

“I always have. From the moment you started this, the moment your _selfish_ ambition told you to take chances, to play with the souls of living, breathing people… I saw into his mind, and I had all the reason to do what I have done.”

Zero narrowed his eye at his servant. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees; Zelda’s flame was nearly extinguished, but she maintained her composure. “You didn’t. You couldn’t’ve—What did you say? Did you just call me ‘selfish’?”

The spirit, Matt, remained silent.

“I created you,” Zero screamed, his rage awakened. Zelda and Ribbon staggered back several paces, nearly trampling Addie as she rubbed her forehead and stirred herself from sleep. “You have no right to speak to me that way! I created everything that you have here! I gave you a role, memories to manifest, people to capitalize on, and this is how you repay me?”

“Yes.” Matt refused to give ground.

“How could you ever believe they know better than I? How? How? I just can’t understand it!” His white pupil widened as crimson tears flowed freely. “They have done nothing of worth, nothing of value! They’re useless, each and every last one of them! They’re all selfish, even when they themselves want to live or die, even when they want others to do the same! They’re all so unbearably selfish, and the only thing they’re good for is to be tools for each other, for me!”

Matt said, “You know, you do repeat yourself a lot.”

The warlord’s remaining wings stretched to their full length. His halo’s light grew in intensity, until it was blinding, a second sun alight in a world of shadows. A gale-force wind ripped through the room, whistling, a bare reflection of the manic glare in Zero’s eye, fueled only by sheer hatred. Sparks danced from his robes, charging the air with static. “I hope you realize what you’re doing.”

“I know very well what I’m doing. I’m defending him, from you. I refuse to let you harm him again.”

It then made eye contact with Zelda, and she felt a shiver crawl stealthily up her back. The apparition in her conscious mind was strange, alien. _Take care of your own, for the time being. His connection to me tethers him to this world’s life force. So long as I live and remain with him, he will be fine. While I stall, you need to help him._

Zelda was shocked. _But if he takes any more damage…_

_You won’t let it come to that, will you? He will be all right._

Dazed by panic, Zelda wanted to so badly prove Matt wrong. Nothing was fine; Snake couldn’t die, but already he had been reduced to a shell of a human being, heaped with scars, burdened with life. Nothing was fine. Nothing made sense. Nothing.

Why bother fighting?

_I don’t know you very well, and we’ve never properly met,_ Matt communicated, hurried. _But from what I saw, David was certain you were a good person. Even if you are now a construct, borne of his imperfect memory, given flesh and blood by a force that thrives on despair… That is what you are to him, who he remembered you as. Capable. Experienced, well-spoken, wise. Please. If this doesn’t end well, don’t let this be for nothing. If you want to honor him, live._

The presence was gone from her head. Time resumed its course, fluid, steadfast.

“Okay. Fine. Suit yourself.” Zero conjured lightning in his open palm. “I hope you’re willing to give up your very existence—which you suddenly value twofold—for him.”

Matt readied its blade. “Unlike mine, your reasons for doubt have never been well-founded.”

XxX


	12. My Friend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Cliffhangers are rough...)

Addie asked, her throat tired from disuse, “What do we do?”

Ribbon watched Matt and Zero face one another, their confrontation tense. “We—we need to regroup, give ourselves some time to work things out—”

Without thinking, Zelda rushed forward, sword held at the ready. She slashed through the crystalline spire, lopping the point off close to the base, above Snake’s chest. It cleaved through like a knife slicing butter, the fires along the edge of her blade so fierce the edges of the mineral formation simply dissolved.

She knelt next to Snake, balancing on one knee with her sword as a crutch. His eyes were unfocused, glazed over. “You need to get up. Your… friend is holding Zero off, for now.” Zelda looked over at their unfolding skirmish; for the moment, neither side had a clear advantage. “If we can regroup somewhere, we can maybe try this again. We don’t have as much time as I would like, but it’s… We’ll make it work. I can help you. I won’t let him hurt you.”

He seemed to have heard none of it. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“Kept—kept things from you,” he murmured, his breath failing. “Didn’t know.”

“I… didn’t expect you to.”

Snake turned his head, and blood wormed its way down his face. Red sparks flashed in his eyes, settling briefly on blue. “Shouldn’t’ve bothered.”

“Come on. It’s my nature. I’m a queen. You seem to remember that well enough,” Zelda said, near babbling. Now, she had her answers, and the horror of the truth was ripping her apart. But, for their sakes, she had to be levelheaded, reliable in a time of emergency. There would be time to have an existential crisis later, of that she was certain. “At least you got that detail about me correct. I’m not sure how many things the Dark Matter filled in for me, for what you forgot, but it worked. I guess.”

Spitting blood diluted with spit, facing the end yet unable to reach it, he mumbled, “My fault. Have to f-fix it.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Zelda objected. Who was she to blame him for existing? For being used? “It wasn’t—you don’t have to shoulder the blame. You were a victim, of circumstance. Of chance.”

With a jolt of anxiety, the realization set in. _His misery was never his choice. Not in this life or in any other. He’s… he’s used to it. Resigned to it, even. Did he have a feeling, a suspicion this was going to happen, that he would never have a happy ending? For all his effort and love…_

Snake faced the ceiling, wheezing, his voice feeble. “Didn’t want you to take the fall for me.”

His eyes fluttered. She knew he wouldn’t die immediately, but she couldn’t help but feel a measure of alarm as he began to drift away. How deep did the connection go? How long did he have until he was no longer a person, until he became an empty vessel?

Zelda reached over, shook his bandaged left shoulder, careful to avoid his scar. “Hold on. Try not to pass out, please; you’ll—it’ll be all right, if you can just focus.” Zelda then grasped for his left hand, only to have her grip pass through his. The farthest points of his fingers had already disappeared completely. From underneath his torn sleeve she could see the slowly-dissolving skin, black like charcoal, infused with the sickening odor of wafting sulfur. She didn’t have much time. “Here, I’ll help you; just balance on me,” she said, ready to prop him up—

Blood gurgled up from his skewered chest, and both of Snake’s eyes flashed red. He fought a frustrated scream, gritting his teeth, and Zelda’s stomach plummeted to her feet. Whatever the true nature of this thing was, tethering him to life… He was losing it.

After an indecisive moment, his eyes were once again blue, the severity of the color startling. Sweat beaded his forehead. “G-get out. I’ll be… I’ll be okay.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not leaving.” She neglected to mention the partial crystal formation still spearing through his chest. How was he still conscious? “We just found each other, and we’ve come a long way, all of us. Don’t—don’t be stupid.”

He had a quiet, rough laugh. “Too late.”

Close by, there was the sound of howling thunder, carving through the wailing gusts. Zelda turned to look; Matt had crumpled, its sword fallen out of reach, and Zero towered above his former retainer, breathing harshly. _So much for a reliable defense,_ she thought, near delirium.

Zelda faced Addie and Ribbon, her face set. Panicking would do them no good. “Help me out with this. Hurry. If we can get him off this, I can heal the wound closed—”

She felt the warlord’s gaze boring into the back of her head, and her pulse skyrocketed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Zero rushed them, halo blazing. “Who gave you miserable byproducts the right to interfere? What can you claim to understand?”

He came closer with astonishing speed. The icy gale rushing through the chamber held its breath.

Several things happened at once.

Ribbon turned away from her work; with a screech, she left Zelda and Addie to their own devices and launched herself and her Crystal at Zero, meeting his charge head-on, seeking to drive it through his glaring red eye.

Zero dodged Ribbon’s attack and slammed the fairy to the side; his momentum did not stop. She crashed against a glassy pillar, cracking it, and landed hard on her stomach, her wings folded around her, a blanket that hid her face from view. Zelda heard her cry out and wanted so badly to help her, but she couldn’t be in two places at once—

Making haste, Addie took hold of Snake’s left upper arm, and Zelda grabbed his right stump. They pulled him from the spire Zelda had cut down, and blood spilled across the floor; by some kind of divine miracle, none of his insides fell out. He got to his feet and leaned into Zelda, retching, hacking up blood; they had a few seconds of reprieve to compose themselves as Zero lunged, reckless with anger, livid with impetuous hate.

It took another precious second for Zelda to realize that Zero was holding Snake’s knife—

She and Addie were shoved out of the way. Zero only wanted Snake, and when the queen slid across the volcanic glass she heard her friend scream again as Zero grabbed for him, saw the knife descend and blood spurt from Snake’s eye and _hasn’t he been through enough already—_

Zelda skidded to a stop and got up, panting, eyes blurry. She saw Addie run over to Ribbon and kneel, hunched over her. Their conversation was hushed, and Zero seemed not to notice. Or care.

Scoffing, Zero threw the knife to the side and examined his quarry before pinning him to the wall. Twitching, Snake bit back his protests, muffling his own shouts with heaving grunts between clenched teeth. His right eye obscured by blood, he clenched his left hand into a fist and fumed in silence.

The warlord stood in front of him, holding Snake up by his scarred left shoulder, his mouth twisted with sorrowful pity. “I’m sorry I had to do that. I really am. I just felt like… teaching you a lesson. But, it’s funny. I probably won’t feel too bad about it later.”

Then, he looked down, staring into the one remaining eye of his victim, and his expression changed, transforming into a morbid rage. His white pupil widened. “What, do _you_ think this is funny, too?”

Snake, grinning slightly, gathered enough energy for a gentle, rattling cough of a laugh.

“What is this?” Zero was nearly frantic. “Do you think I don’t deserve the satisfaction of watching you suffer? Is that it? Is that how you really see me? How can you be so clueless as to think that’s something I want? Or is it that… that old saying of yours? ‘Like father, like son’?”

He gave no reply.

Snarling, Zero pulled back, rage fuming in his gaze as he prepared to strike—

“Zero.”

Thoroughly annoyed, the warlord turned to the sound of his name. “Matt. I get it. He’s invincible, or something. But I know you’re not stupid; you’ve seen what relying on the connection does to him. My plan was to keep doing this, keep piling it on until… he snaps. What do you think?”

Disoriented, the Dark Matter spirit floated upright, stretching one shapeless hand out to the hilt of its sword. “I… would strongly advise against it.”

“Oh, really? Well, too bad.” Zero conjured a spark in his outstretched fingers, holding it close to Snake’s damaged right eye. His captive held his breath, steeling himself without a sound, a stray word. “I enjoy how you seem to think I care about what you think.”

In desperation, Snake flung his head forward, and his forehead collided with Zero’s nose. His grip on Snake loosened as he reeled and fell back, holding one pale hand up to his face, a look of alarm centered in his red eye. Winded, Snake stumbled away from Zero and the wall, holding his pierced abdomen; startled, Zelda saw him fall to one knee before he righted himself and wavered where he stood.

On a different side of the room, Addie and Ribbon coalesced their might; the fairy’s Crystal Shard whirred around her head in tight circles, building speed, and Addie pulled a necklace hidden underneath her tattered scarf from around her neck, throwing the charm onto the floor in front of her. Upon impact, wet paint splashed outward before coming together, assembling into a hunch-backed behemoth, its mouth a muddle of saber-like teeth.

The Shard rushed forward, slicing the air, and Addie’s creation lumbered toward the winged sorcerer, roaring shrilly, towering several feet above his halo.

Zero seemed tired. Bored, even; what he was about to do would give him little to no satisfaction. “All right, fine. I’m done. That’s enough.”

He waved his arm casually, and a shock wave split the earth, rocketing out in circular swells. Dust rained from the ceiling, the alcoves carved into the obsidian walls. The Crystal stopped mid-flight and fell as its director was tossed off-balance; the hobbled guardian was dispelled, leaving no trace of its transient soul behind. Both Addie and Ribbon catapulted into two corners of the chamber, where they toppled into separate, scattered heaps.

When the pulse hit Zelda, she steeled herself, the magic in her Triforce flashing, the flames running down her blade tossed in all directions, buffeted by the wave of frenzied energy before being quashed entirely. She was forced several steps back even as she kept her head down, her eyes stinging.

The moment she felt the pressure in the room return to normal, she invoked a new column of fire, reborn, vibrant as it seared toward Zero.

Partway across, the arc dissipated, scattering in a cloud of ash.

She stared closer into the space between her and the opposition. A transparent wall hovered there, giving off a deceptively affable warmth, resonating with energy at an unprecedented frequency. As she examined it, her senses grew muddled, until a simple fire incantation grew to be a daunting challenge.

She, Ribbon, and Addie were all on one side. Snake was on the other, trapped together with Zero; Matt drifted next to its human link, sword in hand. Both of them were too stunned to react.

“You’re all definitely more capable than he is of killing me,” Zero called over the barrier, “which is why you need to stay over there for right now. Also, while you’re lazing around like the misguided fools that you are, frightened and flustered, why not stay and watch? I’m sorry I can’t give you any more of a show, since he’s so incompetent. Oh, well. I can always try.”

He charged Snake, sending him sprawling in an effort to dodge, shuffling inelegantly to recover in time. Zero was ready; mid-lunge, he pulled his arm back. Lightning stirred, leaping from his closed fist, sinking underneath human skin as Zero’s knuckles slammed squarely into Snake’s stomach, already torn open—

Momentum carried them together, pushing Snake up against the barrier where he staggered, his one good eye wide. Stunned, too weak to even try to regain balance, Snake slid partway down to the floor, his breathing like the sound of scratched sandpaper.

Zero snarled and closed the distance, pinning him upright. “How long can you go on, I wonder? How long before you finally break, before your body finally gives up on you and something else takes over? It’s a miracle, it really is. You can’t die, yet somehow… You’ll fold. You have to.”

Like a phantom, the Dark Matter swordsman approached behind its former ruler, silent as it drifted closer, sword poised.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Zero primed a spell, the intent in his eye promising murder, anticipating a careless, volatile death. “After all, _everyone_ has a breaking—”

As fast as thought, Matt’s physical copy brought its blade down on two of Zero’s wings, severing them cleanly, the crack of bone ringing in every corner of the spacious hall. Red mist sprinkled, gushed from the feathered stumps, and the wings themselves fell to the ground, useless.

Zero bellowed in response, a call to arms. The electricity lingering in the atmosphere, perennial, unabating, joined together into a single super-heated bolt that cleaved through Matt, illuminating its physical form as a black silhouette before sundering it completely, the shape of its ethereal body crumbling away.

When the light dissipated, the copy was gone.

“So,” Zero spoke directly to Snake, quietly. “Are you still down to bargain? I know I have very little use for you, David. You’re… damaged goods, and I don’t think I can take all the blame. But, I’m curious. Would you still be willing to lay what’s left of you down, let me take away your connection so they could live? You probably can’t really trust me, but unless Matt can make another copy, I don’t see how—”

Then there was a sound like shattering glass; Addie and Ribbon had broken the barrier.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, a series of moment-by-moment, still photos played back with all possible delay. The Crystal Shard cut through the chaos, its aura deflecting gathered sparks. A faint hum began to build, cascading, spiraling upward in pitch. Zero, his reactions primed, fired a concentrated blast of dark energy, meeting the Shard in the air.

The hum grew first to a dull roar, then to a splintering explosion, the impact deafening, the heat generated by the collision of magic—both kinds polar opposites of one another—and unstable energies stifling. All conflict in the room ceased, the combatants were tossed in different directions, and pandemonium reigned. As the earth shook, cracks appeared in the obsidian that surrounded them on all sides, and amethyst crystals fractured.

A blinding white light encased the world.

Then, all was calm.

After what felt like ages of silence, Zelda shook herself from her daze, groggily, wincing. The side of her face was wet, warm with what she assumed was blood, and her left ear rang uncontrollably. Grunting under her breath, the queen reached for her sword on the ground, blinking away the white specks still loitering in her field of view. Two other people she recognized as Addie and Ribbon stood up, brushing the dust and dirt off their clothes as they collected themselves and beheld the scene, now unfolding a tragedy that was playing for an audience on its last legs.

Zelda moved her foot, and her ankle gave a scream of protest. Gritting her teeth, she bent over and felt broken bones scratch up against one another, torn ligaments jerk and twist. Her head swam; if only she could focus. She’d heal it, if she could, if the magic aura in the room wasn’t so muddied, so vague.

Her vision still blurred at the edges, Zelda saw someone—they seemed familiar—on their knees, back bent over, using one arm to steady themselves. Even from her limited vantage point, they looked as if they had endured much and were still in a great deal of pain; they seemed to be struggling against something internally, so profound was their agony.

She couldn’t exactly place it, but something felt very, very wrong.

When the figure shambled to his feet, her suspicions were proven right.

Snake’s left eye was now a lurid crimson, his pupil white as snow. Blood—both red and black—sheeted down a large portion of his uncovered, pale flesh, staining his thermal sweater. His left arm ended in a sullied haze of shadow, and when he shifted his weight, he limped on unsteady feet. From several feet away, she caught the rotting, repugnant smell of steaming sulfur: toxic and bitter.

Zelda met his gaze, and her skin crawled.

Of the man she thought was her friend, there was almost nothing left.

They maintained eye contact for another moment, and Zelda was at a loss. Whatever struggle had taken place in his mind, the outcome had not been in his favor.

But she clung to that irrefutable wish, that one solitary ember still left to keep her hopes and dreams alight; he was strong. Death did not come easily to him, regardless of how much he may have wanted it to happen. This spirit in his head didn’t matter, either. Zero’s influence was meaningless. They could still pull each other through, find something good in this time of adversity.

Couldn’t they?

XxX

One spark remained.

And yet, Snake was trapped.

In his mind, Zero’s voice echoed, imposing, absolute. There was nothing else. _You taught Dark Matter love, compassion. “Rising above your fate”. Seeing past the faults of others, cherishing the transience, the inherent oddness of it all…_

_Somehow, it worked. You had it fooled. In another time, if maybe things had turned out differently for me, you would’ve fooled me, too._

_Normally, I would apologize. Since your vision of empathy is so selfish, I think I’m going to pass._

_You wanted to live so badly, you were willing to give your very identity for it._

_So Dark Matter has complete control of your life, your soul, all that. Except, it’s weak, so I’m the one in charge. What can you do about it? Absolutely nothing. Good luck taking the initiative from the back seat._

_So, David. You… monster, or an imitation of one. Less than human. You were meant to be like them, to kill those in your way. You were created to “blend in”, have all the same vices, the same meaningless desires as them. You thought you could be happy. But, since when could you ever be someone you weren’t? You always were a terrible liar._

_Maybe now, even near death, you see why I despise everything that you are._

_And now, you’re going to show them what they—and you—mean to me._

XxX

Zero had risen to his feet. He brushed off his robes, wiped blood from underneath his good eye. “Wow. That only took forever. I’ve been thinking about this, but now is a good time to talk about it. He was never human, never any kind of relatable. What kind of person could take the punishment he has and still come out of it with a desire to see the world well? At that point, who would even care? Who would bother to care? I certainly wouldn’t.”

Snake continued to stand in place, his red eye staring through Zelda, listless, depraved.

As the mangled angel launched into another speech, Zelda set about preparing to heal her ankle. The aura in the room, the intense concentration of Zero’s otherworldly energies didn’t help matters, but she’d get it to work. She always had; healing magic came somewhat naturally to her.

“What are you thinking, my dear?” The crippled warlord jeered, the bitterness in his words isolating her corruption, her darkest needs as a living, breathing person. “Have you considered praying to him, for him, so that what’s left will be good again? What deity would ever willingly bow to your desires for happiness, you spoiled, pompous princess?”

No reply.

“Well, I know what he’s thinking right now, seeing as I’m controlling him. Funny how that works, right? He still wants you to live, not out of any kind of altruistic charity for your sake, but because it would literally tear him apart if you didn’t. If he failed, if he had to watch you die, with him unable to do anything about it. Weird, right? You’re more than capable of protecting yourselves, so I don’t even know why he cares.”

Her ankle now fully healed, Zelda tightened her grip on her rapier and got up. Putting one foot in front of the other became a monumental task; the thought of facing Snake in combat gave her serious misgivings, even when he lacked an arm and an eye and was deprived of all previous sentience.

But she needed to focus. For everyone’s sake.

Zero’s laugh resonated, a booming cackle, an unforgiving screech that spoke of something far more malicious than mania. “You? Really? Oh, my goodness, this is too much. Are you going to stab him with that? Make a big deal out of the drama, maybe? You’re—wow. You’re too greedy, too immature. I mean, if you want to keep your delicate peace of mind, you certainly won’t kill him, and you most definitely won’t kill him to save him. Funny, that.”

From across the room, Addie yelled, “Zelda, snap out of it and get it over with! He’s—he’s going to turn around and off us unless you do something!”

“If you think it’s so easy to discard accountability,” mocked Zero, “then why don’t you do it yourself, Adeleine? Why not stop placing responsibility on someone else for just a little while, hmm? Why not? It’s easy, you say! Should be no problem for someone as _qualified_ as you, especially since you resent him and Zelda for dragging you into this mess. Right?”

Addie found herself tongue-tied. “I, I didn’t…”—she looked over at Zelda before quickly turning away, guilt written over her injured face—“I mean, I was just upset because Ribbon—”

“And there it is: you won’t admit it.”

“Admit what, exactly?”

“That you’re afraid of change. You were fine, you were with Ribbon. Given enough time, you could’ve even learned to be happy, found someplace to call ‘home’ for yourself. For a soul that shouldn’t even exist. But, even if this all ended with my death, you wouldn’t care, because you’re selfish. Because… what’s the point of progress if you, and you alone, can’t enjoy it? Despite what the others need, you really couldn’t care any less.”

Zero turned away, quiet as he said, “It’s a wonder that Ribbon even puts up with you.”

The painter’s reactions were spontaneous; using her brush, she splashed wells of paint on the ground, and from them summoned a horde of guardians, horribly disfigured, rent with multiple torn limbs and scarred porcelain eyes, with ligaments falling apart at the seams, bursting with what looked like oil and boiling paint. They screamed, cried, loosely-attached arms flailing like those of upset children as they rushed Zero and Snake, surprisingly human in their piercing wails. Cold air rippled off their jagged forms, and white frost gathered over the crystal formations and stalagmites.

Addie’s breath steamed. She ranted, above the clatter of her twisted handiwork, “You want me to kill him so badly, Zero? Fine! Fine, I’ll do what you want, because all of us have to do things we don’t like, because you want us to, and I guess we’re all just so disposable, aren’t we?” Tears ran down to her chin, only to freeze before ever leaving her face. “We’re—we’re just toys that you can throw away, because creating us, letting us suffer was never your end goal, and, and all you can think about is ruining people’s lives because we deserve it, for some reason. Is that it? Have I finally figured you out?”

Her rage built, and her monsters slowed to a cluttered shamble, falling over themselves in an attempt to get closer to the enemy. They picked up on their creator’s distress, reaching, begging.

“You could never.” Zero raised an eyebrow underneath the gauze. “You could never begin to fathom why I do what I do. They’re too far beyond you, don’t you realize? You can barely rationalize tragedy on any scale; what makes you think you can see things the way I can? Useless, all of you, nothing better than walking sacks of flesh and—”

“Then tell me,” Addie screamed, and the sound, jarring to Zelda’s ears, overcame the tension in the room, wholly shattering it. “Tell me what you really think, because you could have just left Ribbon and I alone, and we—We didn’t have to be here, none of us did; it’s all your fault. You and your stupid memories, your Dark Matter and your stupid dreams of getting off on pain or something… It’s your fault!”

He was surprisingly quiet. “You made the choice to help, but there is no one to blame. There’s no reason to—”

“Stop! Stop it! Stop, you’re not better than us just, just because you can call us selfish! We’re not like that; that’s not the reason!” Addie’s voice broke. “But, but since you’re such a sadist, you wouldn’t even want to bother getting to know us, would you, you psychopath, you… miserable excuse for a human being—”

“Addie, Addie, c’mon…” Ribbon pulled at her friend’s shoulder, reached for her free hand to hold. “Don’t antagonize him any further. It’s not going to help—”

“No, Ribbon, you—let go, let go right now; seriously, I swear to—”

Interrupting both of them, Zero said quietly, his demeanor no longer one of mindless fury, “You’ve made a mistake, Addie. I’m not human, and neither are the things I control. You only wish they were.”

“No, no, you’re wrong—”

“I’m sure it makes you feel better, realizing there’s something to relate to in everything, some kind of middle ground to reach. I’m sorry, but… You’ve been lying to yourself. You can’t relate, can you? You never could. There’s nothing to find out there.”

Snake lashed out suddenly, his form a dissolving blur, as if pieces of him were being left behind. For a brief flash, he shifted into the vague shape of a robed Dark Matter swordsman, the blade cutting seamlessly through Addie’s defenders before going straight for Addie herself. Quickly, he closed the distance, his essence still melting, still dissipating into the frigid twilight, his one harsh red eye a beacon of crimson—

A creature rose between the two, holding its deformed body as a shield, curled defensively, giving Addie space to back up and push Ribbon away. It died howling, shrieking for all the world to hear, and Snake—whatever was left of his corporeal soul—flew forward effortlessly as a Dark Matter spirit, shifting rapidly between two forms, bringing his sword up, preparing to swing and cut her down.

Zelda watched from afar, too afraid to intervene. Missing—or making contact with the aggressor—carried an exorbitant price, one she was unwilling to pay.

She waited for the inevitable block, for yet another of Addie’s inventions to buy her time, keep her going. Addie was strong. She knew her purpose, what she was doing all of this for. When she was focused, she could find a solution to anything.

The sword, ignorant, callous, grounded in reality, sliced down effortlessly, cutting deep. Blood, viscera spattered across the floor, pitiless, the sound jarring.

Addie collapsed, holding her bloody chest, crying openly. Her voice, childish, caught in her throat.

Zelda waited for her to get up. Maybe she didn’t have the same connection to Dark Matter that Snake did, but it didn’t matter. She was strong. She was young. She knew how to survive.

She didn’t cry for long.

When she had fallen silent, her body disappeared. Everything she had, her red scarf and satchel, the objects and tools she owned faded into darkness.

The blood that had spilled from her was all that was left.

XxX

Zelda could barely move, much less comprehend. It happened too fast. _He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t ever be the one responsible for something like this._

_He knew. He knew she was just a kid._

_And yet, he let this happen._

Ribbon reacted for her; she hurtled into the air, ramming the Snake-Dark Matter amalgamate at full speed, grounding it, forcing the unearthly ghost into a more human form. Her Crystal followed beside her, its edge pointed down towards Snake’s head as he landed hard on his back. She stood over his chest, hand raised; her Shard hovered at attention, waiting for the fatal command.

Sobbing, Ribbon stayed where she was, shuddering as she attempted to remain still.

The spirit underneath her lurched abruptly, gasping. His one eye flickered blue. Dimly, as Snake came to himself, he registered the fairy above him. “You’re crying,” he said, his voice unrecognizable. “What happened?”

“You killed her,” she said, whimpering, her nose stuffy. “You, you killed her.”

His eye widened. “What?”

“You killed her,” Ribbon screamed, at the end of her rope, losing her grip. “This—this, all this; it’s your fault for being here, all of it, and—and you killed her! You, you just—”

She broke down, unable to go on. What could she say?

The realization dawned slowly, the tension unbearable. Snake, his vision foggy, could barely speak. He glanced to the side, saw the bloodstains on the floor. “Addie?”

Ribbon started and backed away, wiping her eyes. At her shoulder, the Shard wavered.

As she backpedaled, Snake asked, “What—what’re you doing?”

“I can’t kill him,” Ribbon screamed, overwhelmed, no longer speaking to Snake but perhaps to someone watching nearby, an unspoken plea for guidance. “I can’t! You can’t ask me to do this!”

Zelda could imagine Zero’s words as she looked over at him, a statue amidst a sea of chaos: _She’s too kind. “Monsters” are one thing; “people” are another. Or so she wants to think. Addie was just a side effect, but Ribbon loved her, anyway. Snake will be your downfall, but you trusted him. You see what happens? You see what happens, when you trust your impulses of compassion and solidarity to give you good things?_

In reality, Zero’s expression was cold, quiet. He kept his demeanor calm and indifferent; if the world were on the brink of ending, he would not have been able to care any less. He had the character of someone who was tired of being proven right. “No one’s asking you for anything, Ribbon. We know you’ll do whatever makes you happiest.”

There was a shuffling noise; Snake struggled to his feet, insubstantial, his body jerking painfully, trembling in frenzied spasms. He fought back Zero and Dark Matter’s combined influence with everything he had, standing on his own two legs, close to collapsing. He faced the floor, his battered features obscured by bloodstained hair.

Then, he looked up, his one blue eye kind, on the verge of being overwhelmed by grief and silence, remorseful yet resilient all the same.

“You have to,” he said.

XxX


	13. ...And the Setting Sun

The three of them stood at the crux of a branching path, unsure, the orderly quiet between them deafening.

Zero chose to break it. “Since all of you are indeed inherently selfish, I wonder how long it will take you to come to a collective agreement. Do you kill him, or do you not? Do you wait for him to lose his sanity again, in the hopes that he kills someone else, which will make it easier to truly murder him, in cold blood? You’re interesting; you really are.”

“Ribbon,” Zelda cautioned, unwilling to get closer, “don’t let your guard down.”

The fairy never once broke eye contact with Snake. Even as tears fell, her stare was unnerving, guided with precision to the center of his essence. Zelda struggled to make out her words, but she could hear Ribbon say, “I—she was important to me. All we had was each other, and—”

She couldn’t go on.

“A fake. You’re a memory, Ribbon,” Zero reminded casually, from the sidelines. “You’re… you’re not meant to be real. David, on the other hand, is very much an actual human soul, which leads me to believe that your concept of friendship was invalid from the start. I’m not entirely sure how a construct, made from the memory of you from someone else, could ever be friends with—”

“You shut up,” Ribbon snarled, an uncharacteristic sneer written onto her petite features. “You shut up right now, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what, exactly? Haven’t you tried everything? We can all see that nothing worked. We’re not stupid, and you’re not fooling anyone.”

Ribbon’s Crystal pointed first at Snake, then at Zero, unable to decide who to go after first. Wiping her eyes frantically, she said to Zero, “What happens to him—to us—when we kill you?”

He spread his arms wide. “I think the important question to ask is if you even can. I won’t deny you’ve been incredibly capable, for someone so young. Then again, your age doesn’t matter, as we’ve established. Anything about you… You’re meaningless, really.”

Ribbon turned too slow; Snake struck at her, his Dark Matter form eating away at his human body. What little control he had once reclaimed was wrested away from him in that moment; the entity in charge was reckless, attacking swiftly.

Her Crystal was faster. It zipped in front of her, glowing in defiance. The blade clanged off before descending once more, only to be deflected again by a subtle shift in the Shard’s position. Ribbon was focused now; her eyes red from tears left untended, she kept her gaze peeled forward, brows creased in concentration, her forehead shining with sweat.

The blows rained down with a fervent vigor, and Ribbon blocked each one with refined ease. A swipe rang in from the side; in a blink, the Shard was there, and upon contact, the room resounded with the harmony of pealing bells. The spirit teleported, materializing on the opposite side, and the Shard responded in kind. She pushed the Crystal forward, driving the amalgamation’s sword back, and for a flash of a moment, Snake was left open, his Dark Matter form flickering, in anticipation of the hit that would finally sever their connection—

But Ribbon didn’t press on. Her translucent wings took her back a few paces and set her down several feet away, her Crystal Shard echoing each movement.

Oddly, the amalgamate failed to come closer. It hovered in place, wavering between two bodies lacking substance, sometimes armed, sometimes barehanded. When it solidified into the shadow of a man, there was something resembling regret in its clouded features, founded on a near-inscrutable sorrow.

Seconds passed by without incident; Zero spoke up. “This is interesting and all, but can someone finish up here? I’m sure we all have better places to—”

The blow came without warning. The Shard flashed forward, catching Snake in his more humanoid form and ripping through his right kneecap, devoid of mercy. Blood—red, a sign reminiscent of his mortality—spewed from the entrance and exit wound, and for one moment his eye glowed blue.

He fell onto all three of his limbs, gasping, collapsing on the side of his crippled leg.

Ribbon walked forward, each step measured with pinpoint precision. She stopped in front of Snake, her face impassive as stone. “Please. You’re—you’re strong. You don’t have to let this happen.”

“How could he not?” Zero chimed in. “You do realize that if he resists, he dies? The fact that he’s still conscious is a miracle to me. This connection is the only reason any part of him exists, at all, the only thing still tying him to life, and even then, it’s been tearing him to pieces.”

Struggling, Snake righted himself as best he could, Ribbon standing before him as he knelt, his energy spent. She pointed her Crystal at his head and did not move.

As the two of them—young and old—met each other’s eyes, Zelda recalled the path set forth by her dreams.

If they kept Snake alive, if they helped him fulfill whatever his goal had evolved into, Zelda would have her answers, and she’d find out how to end the world that Zero had created, in objection to the natural law.

“Ribbon, wait,” she called out, wishing she could heal her friend from a distance, wishing the magic in the room wasn’t so volatile, so confusing to manipulate. “Don’t do anything rash. If he can still help us figure it all out, we need to do that, first.”

“We already know why we’re here,” Ribbon said.

“Sure, but will this even work?”

Over her shoulder, the fairy said, her voice level, “The Crystal is how we ended the Dark Matter invasion a while back. It’s deadly to them. It’s also how we killed Zero. He’s in a different form this time, but it doesn’t matter. They takes many forms, but they’re all the same. It’s fine.”

“What? What do you mean, it’s fine?” Zelda was panicking, in direct contrast to Ribbon’s listlessness. “If you get rid of the Dark Matter, he’ll die—”

“That’s the plan,” Ribbon said simply.

“No, Ribbon, wait, wait… Please. Are you sure? Take it slow. Let me heal him, first; maybe things will become clearer and you won’t have to—”

“Stay out of this,” the fairy said, sternly.

“Ribbon, I know you’re upset,” soothed Zelda, “but everything she lived and died for will be worth less than nothing if you let this happen.”

“She didn’t live for this,” Ribbon shouted, overwhelmed, and Zelda froze. “She lived for herself, and just herself, because she never wanted to try any harder than—”

“You know that’s wrong. She lived for you. Just as you lived for her, at one point.”

Ribbon’s breath caught.

“Please,” Zelda said, “think about it. You don’t want this to end that way, do you?”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Zero scorned. For the moment, he seemed content just watching things unfold. He enjoyed it, letting people flounder, so when the dust settled, he could stand above them and declare himself the picture of truth. “She wants to be happy, just like you. Just like how she’ll deny anyone else their needs to be happy. She’ll be able to wake up tomorrow—or whenever—and remember how she did a good thing. What was that good thing? It doesn’t matter. Killing a friend, murdering those who are different for the sake of peace… No matter what it was, she won’t care. So long as your own conscience is satisfied with revenge…”

The fairy’s wings fluttered restlessly, yet she did not take off. She stood in place, placid, still, a statue weathered against time, her face inscrutable.

Zelda wanted so desperately to rush in, to push Ribbon aside and just help Snake. Regardless of the consequences, regardless of how the magic in the room reacted, regardless of what Zero might do to them afterward… She wanted to see this through, with the people they had left. The Dark Matter inside him wouldn’t make a difference if he had no injuries to speak of. There’d be no reason to rely on it if he was completely healthy.

Right?

What Ribbon wanted was not something Zelda concerned herself with; if she was acting out of revenge, she was doing it with only her own well-being in mind—

But the queen held herself back. She was in uncharted territory; one misaligned spell and the world would come crumbling down around her. They needed to proceed carefully, together.

She’d never forgive herself if they couldn’t.

“Do… do you know what happens if you go through with this, Ribbon?” Zero’s voice was discreet, his manner almost polite, but the look in his eye gleamed coldly. “Really, I’m just curious if you understand the concept of future consequences. How will this affect me, or your sad, lonely fate? How will you ever come to cope with what’s happened? What you’ve done?”

To Zero, she didn’t respond.

“Hey,” Snake wheezed, speaking up, “Ribbon… You—you ever have to put down an old dog?”

The chamber held its breath.

Ribbon blinked back tears. “Please don’t make me.”

“Don’t have to,” he choked out, laughing painfully. “Don’t have to—do anything.”

“I’m not, I can’t. You can’t ask me to do that… I’m not strong enough for this. I’m just a—”

He smiled through bloodied teeth. “You’re… still you.”

In reply, the Crystal Shard stabbed through Snake’s chest.

Like an arrowhead, the Shard broke skin and hit home with the resounding echo, the peal of a bell. He doubled over, and the crystalline bolt seemed to linger in Snake’s abdomen before piercing through his spine in a trail of radiance and sinking into the obsidian wall behind him. In lieu of blood, light showered the chamber, tracing lines of warmth through the veins previously charred dark violet; purging his connection, tearing him free.

A wisp of Dark Matter coalesced above his shoulders before disappearing into the stalactite-encrusted ceiling, whisked away by the formless wind.

Snake collapsed on his back and stared up at the ceiling, his skin frail, his one eye a delicate blue, broken. He lay in a gathering pool of blood, no longer smelling of sulfur and burning acid, smoldering ash. The wounds he had sustained, the countless scars and incisions… They bled quickly, sealing his fate: human, fleeting.

Ribbon ran over to his side and dropped to her knees. He was fading alarmingly fast; she could hear his breath slowing, entangled in his torn ribs, his emaciated lungs. His injuries, after lagging so far behind, finally began to catch up.

“H-hell of a shot,” Snake managed.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.” Ribbon stared at the new puncture wound in his chest, her face ghastly, skin stretched taut.

She reached for his left hand. It was stable: pale with life seeping out of him, but no longer phasing out of reality. Shivering, she said, “We—we’ve never really talked, did we?”

He shook his head minutely, drooling blood.

“I guess… guess that’s mostly my fault. It’s just that I wish I got to—to know you better, y-you know? It’s just… You’ve been through so much and I… I, I know you didn’t mean to hurt her—”

The moment the words left her, Ribbon broke down again, crying roughly, no longer caring to maintain her composure. The sobs, feral, horrible to bear witness to, clawed their way from her mouth. She covered her face with her free hand as she shook, her Crystal hovering next to her, dripping blood.

“Hey… S’fine.” Snake clasped her hand tighter, hushed, struck by how tiny and fragile her fingers were. “It’s okay.”

Their gazes met, and through the pain that fogged his eye over, Ribbon saw a kind of paternal warmth that stopped her in her tracks. She expected hate, wanted so badly to let it be the one in control… After Addie, he didn’t deserve a quick death, didn’t deserve anything nice; he was strong enough to control himself and he let it happen… It didn’t matter whether or not he meant to; he let it happen—

But she felt his guilt, saw the suffocating sorrow, but not for himself.

He didn’t care.

He was going to die, because of her, and _he didn’t care_ —

He coughed, the sound a gunshot, and blood splattered. Ribbon went pale, sniffling, wiping her face dry, all business now. If there was a way to save him, to keep him alive after getting rid of the Dark Matter that inhabited him, she needed to find it. She just needed to. She wouldn’t be responsible for this. She refused to be, and if her denial was strong enough, the bad ending wouldn’t happen.

“Zelda,” she called, heedless of the queen’s injuries, “Hurry up; get—get over here; we need to heal him. If you’re fast enough you could heal him completely and—”

“No…” Snake rasped, throat parched. “Not… now.”

Nevertheless, Zelda stumbled over, half-tripping over her own feet in her haste. She fell to her knees next to the pair. “I’m… I’m here. Hang on.”

Placing one gentle hand over his wounds, Zelda closed her eyes, wished for peace, and began the long process of healing him. If she acted with efficiency, figured out how to circumvent the effects of unstable magic fast enough, she wouldn’t have to worry about scarring, or what would happen to his organs, or further blood loss; they were still together, all of them—

Weakly, Snake let go of Ribbon’s hand, took hold of Zelda’s wrist and pulled it away from his torn chest. The healing sparks faded, unserviceable, leaving his wounds open. Blood still dripped steadily, staining his unkempt clothes, his ragged bandages.

Zelda pried her arm out of his failing grip, fighting tears. “What’re you… Why are you doing this?”

The truth hit home.

_It’s no longer his responsibility, to live for others. He’s all right with this._

_Ribbon put him to rest._

She quashed her doubts as best she could, stomping them before they could fester. _Don’t let it get to you. You did what you could, as a queen. As a vestige, given life by accident, brought to being into a world that only exists because of Zero, of someone unfathomably selfish. It’s nothing personal. You did what you could, rescuing him, seeking answers together…_

_Is that all he ever was: a victim of circumstance? Of people, acting beyond his control? Forcing him to do the same? Despite his efforts…_

_I hope he can forgive me._

“David?” His real name felt foreign on Zelda’s lips, the taste pungent, harsh. What right did she have to speak it? Who gave her permission to see him for who he really was, if she was a fake? A fraud, a side effect of Dark Matter?

She couldn’t shake her fear, couldn’t stop tears from flowing freely down her scratched, bloodstained cheeks. Her heart was pounding. “I’m sorry I wasn’t who you thought I was; if I’d been a better person, you would’ve remembered and, and I could’ve stopped them—”

Ribbon leaned in too, shifting her attention between the queen and the soldier, her mourning silent, shoulders shaking.

Snake whispered, blood gathering in the corners of his mouth, his gaze cloudy with pain and guilt, hand limp at his side. “Y-you… you were—”

His breathing fell with his good eyelid. Zelda pulled him in closer to listen for a pulse, for any signs of life.

Nothing.

Quietly, without fanfare, his body dissolved, evaporated into the wind of a lifeless landscape, carried away to a distant, more hopeful shore.

XxX

“Finally,” muttered Zero.

Zelda and Ribbon stared in shock, with nothing to hold on to, nothing to grasp.

“And just like that,” the warlord said, “they disappear. People just… poof, gone.” His words, while biting, lacked any real bitterness or disdain. Rather, his tone was informal, discussing trifling, petty concerns on a relaxed morning stroll. “Back to nothing, or whatever awaits your kind when you meet your end. It’s funny; for all your dreams and personal sacrifices, you could never once stop that from happening. I mean, he was immortal for a time! How much do you have to mess up to make this”—he regarded the chamber with a casual hand—“a reality?”

Unable to hold herself in check, Ribbon cried in earnest.

Still frozen, Zelda could no longer find the words, the actions to comfort her with. Her dreams, the omens she had gathered and trusted with as much faith as possible… The friend she thought she could help…

Gone. Dead. Useless.

“Oh, fantastic. Are you two just going to sit there and cry?” They heard the warlord’s wings flap, restlessly. “At this point, I may as well not bother. You’re both just… really boring.”

Hesitantly, Zelda reached for Ribbon’s hand, stained with blood that wasn’t hers.

Ribbon looked at the queen, whimpering, but the spark in her defiant glare spoke volumes. Wiping pink hair away from her wet eyes, she turned and faced Zero, the catalyst. “I—I guess we get to find out what happens if we kill you.”

Zelda rose to her feet in a show of support.

Zero inclined his head. “Hmm. That is something you could certainly try. All I can say is… Good luck.”

Ribbon’s Shard rocketed toward him; this time there was no hesitation, no preemptive upsurge in velocity. Zero disappeared into the shadows and reappeared several steps closer. Zelda was waiting with a spear of flame held back, launching it at Zero the moment she saw him re-materialize. He sidestepped, the fire blurring by his head, and waved his hand; she felt the ground rumble and leaped forward, timing it precisely—

Using the crystal pillar that rose from the ground as leverage, she pushed off and threw herself into the air, wreathed in a ravening blaze, her sword a burst of light, disorienting Zero for the time it took her to careen down upon him. She felt her Triforce flare on the back of her hand, guiding her blade toward his vitals.

The edge connected, slicing across his front. The blood that left his body simmered in the intense heat as his clothes caught, covering him in a cloud of air that steamed.

Once more, he disappeared, and the flames went out.

“That’s… actually incredibly annoying for me,” Zero said, his voice resonating from all four corners. “I hope you realize how much of an inconvenience you are. I mean, I didn’t even want any of you—well, minus Snake—to exist. You could at least make it harder for me to prove myself right—”

“There’s something I haven’t told you yet, Zero.” Ribbon snapped, croaking, “You talk way, way too much.”

He appeared once more, glaring. “But you listen. You listen, because you’ve seen how catching me off-guard does so very little, and so, your other option is to wait my ‘boring’ monologues out. Right? Surely you’ve at least connected _those_ dots. Because you’re afraid. You’re afraid that if you don’t listen, I’ll just kill you faster. Or depending on what you want, slower. Nothing can ever go your way, can it?”

Ribbon’s Shard zoomed forward, seeking vengeance, but Zero disappeared, leaving no trace. The Crystal met empty air, embedding itself in the wall, cracking the obsidian with scars that spread like lightning.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Zero reprimanded, his voice booming. “I know you want me dead. You’re so… hell-bent on proving yourselves right. ‘I’m a good person’, you tell yourself. ‘I’m a good person because I fought someone bad. I didn’t let them ruin anyone else’s life.’ But, in what world, in what parallel dimension are things ever that simple? How could you ever hope to—”

“Just shut up!” The Shard threw off sparks, violently tossing them about in a circlet of static as it pulled itself from the volcanic glass and responded to Ribbon’s grieving anger. “Please, please, just shut up!”

“Okay,” Zero consented. “Fine.”

Zelda stared down Zero as he re-materialized with a flourish of his remaining wings. She roared, lunging, sword pulled back.

The swing came thundering to his chest, ferocious, a flash of metal sudden enough to be nothing more than an illusion, a trick of shadows and light. Then Zero was gone, and Zelda fell hard, landing in a crouch. She heard the rush of air behind her and whirled her sword to face the threat—

An obsidian shard, aimed squarely for her throat, bounced off her blade. With a quick sidestep, she bounded closer to Zero, flames appearing to life at her feet as she shifted. There was no time to consider how to move, where to step, which spell to cast. She was on auto-pilot, maneuvering around his incantations with the intent to kill, dodging underneath forks of pulsating electricity. Her hair stood up on end as she dashed and speared forward with the tip of her rapier.

A slight frown on his haughty, thin cheeks, Zero moved to the side. Zelda was ready, and brought her sword upon him with unbridled rage, angled it so that the edge cleanly caught the warlord’s skin on the way down. The livid cut traced a fresh brand down through the prior injuries, red flowing rhythmically, drops of blood pooling over, sinking into his robes. She felt metal scrape away part of his ribs, felt the crack of bone resonate; he stumbled, bent double, and just barely caught himself in time.

Breathing hard, Zero backed up.

“What,” Zelda said, taunting. “You’re not going to disappear?” Ribbon came to stand beside her, face contorted into an ugly, wolfish snarl. “You’re not going to waste our time and lecture us before killing us slowly? What a surprise.”

But she was exhausted. She was tired, beyond fatigued, and she didn’t know how long she could keep this confrontation up. Channeling fire magic was suddenly a momentous task, a mountain slope to overcome, and she tried her best to hide it. Despite her efforts, she knew Zero could see her knees buckling, her wet palms shaking, her fingers twitching around the hilt of her sword.

Judging from his upturned smile, he was well aware. “I could. But even if you do kill me, it’d be more fun just to see you prove me right.”

“He won’t have anyone to torment then, _don’t you see?_ ” Ribbon’s inflection was merciless. “If he kills us too fast, it _won’t be any fun for him_ , Zelda. Even though we’re all useless, and meaningless, he’d like to enjoy his time. Like how he probably didn’t have as much fun as he could have with—with _him_. Right?”

Zero was speechless.

Zelda spat at him, her face bent with an enraged sneer. “You like to say you know everything, and you hate it when people doubt you. Face it, Zero. Whatever you are. Whatever you’re made of. You’re not better than us, so how in the name of anything could you feel privileged enough to… to play with life?”

Scoffing, his voice hoarse, sallow, indignant face contorted in pain, he said, “Well, you don’t seem to be doing anything useful with yours, beyond fulfilling whatever stupid, nonsensical desire first comes to mind. Actually, I think Snake is much better off dead, not because he deserves the rest, but because then it’d be as if he never met y—”

Ribbon’s Shard cut him off. It sliced through his remaining three wings, severing all of them in one fell swoop. He screeched, alien, and collapsed in a heap, blood gathering.

The fairy looked over at the queen, watery eyes bright with hate. “How long do you think I should monologue for, Zelda? Before I disembowel him, and all that?”

Zelda knit her brow. “Don’t. Just… end it. I’m tired. You’re tired.”

She looked down at Zero. _Jealous_ , she thought miserably. _What could anyone like him ever have to be jealous of in someone like me, or Ribbon? We’re fakes; he’s told himself that countless times. He’s a sadist, and he’s proud of it. Being evil, being a threat to all sentient life._

_He enjoys it._

_Doesn’t he?_

Speaking through the silence, Zero gurgled, “What are you waiting… for? Don’t you want to see what happens when… when I die? Won’t that give—give you all your answers?”

“Of course.”

“Then,” he choked, bewildered, “hurry it up, already.”

“Oh,” Zelda said, her voice heaped with uncharacteristic venom, the resentment boiling over, “I suppose you really are like the rest of us: selfish, impulsive, wanting to die without pain. Sorry.”

Zero never got to reply; with finality, Zelda drove her rapier, the exposed blade flaring with light and fanatical heat, through his one good eye. After a strenuous, tiring effort, she twisted it and pushed it in hilt-deep, the very end of her weapon puncturing the back of his head, spattering droplets of blood, crunching through bone as if it were nothing more than paper.

He managed a second of a futile, sniveling scream before it was cut off by another sickening crunch; Zelda pushed her blade in further, denting the front of his skull. As he fell, his halo shattered without a sound, with barely a ghost of a whisper. The pieces scattered, strewn across the mutilated earth before the fragments themselves melted into dust.

Zero keeled over, landing sharply on his side and taking Zelda’s sword with him. His recently amputated wings rested close by, shriveled, deprived of their owner.

Ribbon looked away from the scene, holding her breath.

Zelda stood there for a second of silence, heaving gulps of air, wiping sweat and blood away from her forehead. Then, she leaned over and pulled her sword from Zero’s cleaved head. Blood fountained, and she winced. She muttered, “I’m—sorry you had to see that.”

“No, no.” Ribbon rubbed her eyes with a tired knuckle. “It’s fine. That’s what I expected to happen. It’s just… kind of gross.”

“Yes.” Zelda took several steps backward and sat down heavily, carefully avoiding direct eye contact with the fairy. She instead chose to stare first at her rapier stained crimson, then at what was left of Zero’s skull. Black mist rose from the sundered bone and steamed from the spilt blood, gravitating toward the floor, condensing like fog, obscuring his ruined eye socket. The smell of rotting flesh and acidic sulfur permeated the frigid air. “It really is.”

Ribbon sat down next to her.

Neither of them spoke. Zelda fidgeted awkwardly, still continued to stare at her sword, resisting the urge to clean it. She was in a daze.

Zero was gone. This was it. This was the final answer.

What else could there be?

Finally, Ribbon said, “I guess that’s it.” She watched Zero’s blood spill, mix into the cracked earth. “With both him and… the ‘beacon’ gone, the Dark Matter should disperse. Everything they’ve given physical form around us should disappear. Including you and me, I guess, if Zero was right. Since—since we’re just residuals. We’re just fakes—”

Seeing that the fairy was on the verge of tears, Zelda moved closer. “You’re worried about what happens to us.”

Ribbon nodded. “I’m a mess.”

“Even if you were, no one could blame you, least of all me.”

“Why?”

Zelda thought the evidence was clear. “My talk of dreams, following omens. You wouldn’t have ended up here, and—”

She cut herself off. _Addie would still be alive, and Snake would still be in stasis with Dark Matter, most likely._ She hated herself for thinking it, wondering of alternatives, when their past had already happened. If anything, her dreams were to blame, not the failures of people like them or even whatever twisted, deplorable agenda Zero was trying to enact, what dimension-traveling empire he was attempting to create. No. They’d done everything right.

And if she really was a by-product of Snake’s memories, what was she still doing here?

She tried not to think about the look in his eye, the wave of guilt she felt from his failing body. If she started, she was afraid she’d never be able to stop.

“Oh.” The fairy’s wings rustled, agitated. She stared at the blood seeping between fissures, narrowing her eyes. “I guess. I guess you’re right.”

Was it just her imagination, her pained restlessness, or was Zero’s blood boiling?

Ribbon watched, horrified, as the ground began to shake, and the ceiling caved in dangerously. All around the pair, crystal formations shattered completely, but the sound of their fractures was drowned out by the rumble of falling earth and clinking obsidian like rain. A deep murmur built in the back of her skull, and she steadied herself with unsteady arms as she leapt to her feet.

Alarmed, Zelda followed suit. “Is the palace collapsing?”

“Yeah, the… the Dark Matter is dissolving, losing physical form.” Ribbon scanned the room, hair whirling, wings humming. “We need to leave now—”

“But the whole—everything is Dark Matter. The ground, the sky, us. Where, where can we go?”

“Don’t think about it,” Ribbon urged, panicking. “We need to keep moving, or else—”

“Or else what, exactly?” The familiar voice called from a distant horizon, deep and resonant with something forgotten, remote. “There’s nothing else to do. No one to see, to save. This is where it ends.”

What remained of Zero’s mortal body fell into a widening crevasse, opening to the eternal night, expanding in its never-ending hunger. Smoke covered the world, obscuring the chaos of a departing dimension from sight as something rose to replace his stiff corpse.

Slowly, a waking, shambling nightmare, a red eye as wide across as the entire chamber opened before them, bathing the room in crimson light. The pupil, white as snow, cut through the smog like a spotlight, catching them, freezing them in place. In the ever-expanding darkness, the twilight radiant with violet lightning, six wings spread out, reaching far beyond into something obscure, unknowable.

Zero, now a disembodied spirit, encompassed every space and direction, stranding Ribbon and Zelda on their own island of lucidity and unyielding earth, trapping the young fairy and the queen in the void as their known world crumbled to nothingness around them.

XxX


	14. Star Sky

Zelda and Ribbon bunched closer together, huddled for warmth. Nearby, the Shard quivered, seemingly aware of the threat yet unable to act. The queen’s sword felt empty in her trembling hand, devoid of life.

Towering high above, Zero’s eye, gargantuan, absolute, blinked slowly. Blood dripped steadily from the soul of their enemy manifest, a giant amongst unassuming ants. Nothing about it could be called human; what remained of its vices, its selfish, sadistic desires to skirt blame and responsibility had all but disappeared. The entity lurking before them, its presence stifling, its six wings terrifying in scale, was a call to moments past, an echo of something more primal, unseen.

Its voice was a foghorn, blasting, with no need or desire for pity. Zero had no more use for a mouth, not when its existence was unquestionable, all-encompassing. The whole of the darkness spoke for it, acted as its mouthpiece. “You. Here, at the end of your time, you cling to your… constructed life, thinking you can still parse meaning, find what you seek. Do you want forgiveness?”

In a small voice, lonely against the roaring, raging tide, Ribbon said, “We thought you were dead.”

“And yet, in that moment, my essence mingled with all of Dark Matter’s. My death was pointless. This is what I channeled, sculpted; here is the source. You were always surrounded by it. How could you be so blind as to not anticipate this?”

Lightning scored the land, marked their little pocket of solid ground, corralling them in. They were prey, herded into a neat clump, the walls collapsing toward them.

The fairy raged, ranted, her words no longer containing meaning. They faded into background noise, into chatter that spoke of inconsequential slights, trivial horrors, personal tragedies that carried no weight in the oppressive cold.

But with her face sharpened under the red light, Ribbon cried, protested the injustice of it all. Her eyes wide, soaked with tears, the fairy fought for something both within and beyond herself, her passion manifest. “We, we didn’t… None of us ever wanted this to happen! It wasn’t our choice!”

“Always. That’s how it always is, isn’t it? There’s nothing special about you. Even as a construct, a breathing testament to Dark Matter… you suffer all the same.”

She narrowed her gaze, her shoulders trembling. With Ribbon’s attention focused, a prick of a dagger, Zelda fully expected the Shard to rocket forth, propelled by the fairy’s wild tears, her clenched fists. In her mind’s eye she could see Zero melt away, fade into the obscurity he was so overly fond of.

The space around them was filled with silence, punctuated on occasion by a weak, hiccupping sniffle. The Shard had yet to move.

“Ribbon,” the ethereal demon hummed, “do you still remember how to control that? I understand that you may not find my advice useful, but… Perhaps, consider doing what you’ve always done. Or… knowing who you are now, is that no longer possible?”

Ribbon’s rage was formidable. “What, do you want me to keep trying? Really? Don’t you want to stay alive a little longer, so, so you can do all of this again, to other people? To _experiment?_ Don’t you want to ruin someone else’s life, be able to say it’s all their fault? For letting it be ruined…?”

Zero paid no attention. In its mind, there was little need to.

Silently, a spear of pure darkness perforated Ribbon from behind, piercing her through the stomach, lifting her off her feet. As her wings flapped aimlessly, she gasped for air, tears pricking the corners of her wide eyes. Her body began to erode, her very soul excised into the heart of the darkness. The Crystal fell from the air, useless, at Zelda’s feet.

Zelda reached for her, mouth open in a soundless yell just as the spire retracted and Ribbon’s body fell forward. The queen caught her, dropping her blade in the process, cradling her with shaking arms, praying to every sovereign deity she knew the name and purpose of. Her young friend’s wings flopped, their energy spent, useless before vanishing into the unknown. Blood soaked Zelda’s robes, a bleak reminder of what she—what they—had previously lost.

_What I will lose_ , Zelda thought, dazed. _Not you, too._ “We’re almost done here, Ribbon; just, just keep focused. You’ll see your friends. You’ll see Addie again, too; you’ll both be all right.”

“That’s a lie,” Zero cut in, merciless. “Part of me didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but… Memories like you have no friends, no one to love. I’m sorry. I really am.”

The queen felt the fairy’s breath catch, and she reached inside herself, roving for any semblance of mercy, charity to share. She could heal Ribbon. Neither of them had to lose everything. There was no reason for all their waking hours to be meaningless. That wasn’t the way it needed to happen.

Zelda’s search was fruitless; terror had entrenched itself inside her, defeated, resigned. She found it hard to breathe, and her heart hammered, seeking to break free of her chest. Defiant, grieving for a purpose, it had no room to listen to the silent pleas of the watered-down copy it occupied.

Zero watched, without a face. Somehow, the polluted menace, lurking, observing the misplaced Hylian carried all the emotion in the world, bearing it with the force of a still, steady guillotine. Their fates—however incidental—were sealed.

What good was her magic if she couldn’t prevent the worst?

One venomous thought eclipsed all others, sowed its seeds with the urgency of a desperate lie: _I can’t protect anyone._

Delirious, Ribbon hugged the front of Zelda’s robes, hiccuping, her strength fading, her tiny hands shaking with fear. With her last breath, she mouthed a single word: “Addie.”

She was gone without another sound, without a lasting remnant to put to her name.

Underneath Zelda, the final pocket of land crumbled away. Her sword and the Crystal Shard disappeared.

Despite the solitude, she remained, floating in place, holding nothing.

Zero watched with its one red eye, the absolute at its most cold. “There. Look at that. You have another tragedy… to add to your belt. Do you feel deserving of life, yet? You’ve proven your resolve.”

Now, Dark Matter, in its purest form, was everything.

XxX

“You were David’s memory, and his alone. Dark Matter should have abandoned your… ‘blueprint’ long ago.” Zero was curious. “And yet, you are the last survivor. An unwilling savior. Bastion, defender of what they thought life truly was. A fragment of a person, a remnant of someone alive, far away, in a different world. You are alone.”

She knew. The feeling was nothing noteworthy. Zero didn’t need to tell her.

“Are you beginning to ‘remember’? How things were? How your supposed past used to be? Ruling for their sake, always self-sacrificing. No one could spare you a moment, least of all yourself. A good queen should enjoy that kind of thing, yes? Knowing her people are safe, seeing them go about their days peacefully. It makes all the bloodshed worth it.

“But you could never assure them of that on your own, could you? Heroes and magical swords… I will never understand. David wanted to remember you as someone worthy of praise, but forgot just how much you rely on your own people to exert your influence. He must have been _such good friends_ with ‘you’, if you equate being a good friend with being a puppet. Pretending.”

Against her will, she wanted to agree, and a stone fell in the pit of her stomach. She was wrong.

Her head pounding viciously, a part of Zelda’s conscience wanted to give Zero what he wanted to hear, if only to get this whole affair over with.

But something told her not to.

Zelda, miraculously, found the strength to speak. “Addie, Ribbon… You never once saw them as something more than friends. So… why did they love each other here, as part of your inconsequential memories?”

It made sense. “Matt” and David, one seeking purpose and life through the other, the lines blurred between the two…

She answered her own question, afraid, her heart pounding, overcome with a sudden wave of sorrow. Inexplicably, she couldn’t understand it; wasn’t she already suffering enough? “Dark Matter wanted to live, as much as we did. What you showed it, through the connection it made with… with _him_ … That’s why.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say his name.

“You cannot fault it. In another time, in a different place, neither would I.” Zero’s voice carried no inflection. “But every member of your kind makes mistakes, and one of my own happened to be dragged down with you all. It was bound to happen. Things like that are without reason.”

“So.” Zelda couldn’t stop scorn from seeping into her words. “Is life worthless to you?” At any moment, her existence could end. Here, at the climax of all things, she didn’t really think it mattered anymore. She didn’t need to “respect” Zero’s time if the end result was the same.

“Mine? It’s not ‘life’. It’s… beyond you. It just is.”

“Then, why are we still having this conversation?” Zelda was tired. “Just get it over with. You’ve already said you have better things to do than torment… torment me.”

_It’s just me he’s tormenting now, isn’t it…? Or, did he—did it—plan this all from the start?_

“Yes, I do. But I…” Zero’s train of thought faded.

“What is it?”

“You have no choice. If I am here, forever, doing nothing, you will remain. Presumably. The Dark Matter that made you wishes it to be so. Was it really selfish of me to—”

“Yes.” Zelda grumbled, cavalier. “Everything you did—creating an empire, using a tortured human soul as a beacon, toying around with the byproducts—was for personal gain.”

“Is that so?” The Zero she was familiar with would have lashed out at the accusation. “That does seem to be the case.”

“So why not one more? Why not do one last thing to appeal to your sadism?”

“Is that what you want?” Zero’s voice rose in volume, until it was all she could hear, drowning out even the sound of her heartbeat. “Do you want to die, knowing you were right? Knowing you were selfish in both life and death, but at least getting the upper hand, because you proved me to be a force of evil? Because you really were a ‘good person’?”

Zelda did not respond. Words had abandoned her.

“My dear. My queen.” For a boundless entity of negative energy, sustained by the Dark Matter void around it, Zero was almost gentle. “I want you to know something. You could have been anyone. Anyone. Does it matter that David personally knew you? No. Anyone else from his past could have been called to mind. The dog he cared for when he was young, for instance. The countless instructors he had, as he was groomed for war. His spirited love interests, like his partner, the one he raised a daughter with. His comrades in arms who died for his sake, or his eccentric neighbor who watered their lawn at odd hours, three doors down from his apartment.”

She was growing feverish, and her skin began to itch. There was nothing she could say.

“Or, consider this: how many of his memories actually took shape here? How many of the countless people and places in his life were molded into being by Dark Matter and left to find their own way? Maybe you will never understand, but I will encourage you to think about it, because it’s important to see things the way I do.”

Silently, she reached inside herself for any remaining stores of magic. The Triforce on the back of her hand gleamed dully, welcoming, beckoning.

“Do you see? Do you finally realize what I have realized?” The being she knew as Zero continued, “You are a coincidence, like countless others. A blip, a speck of a soul, acting for your own gain even as an echo of something barely alive. Altruism? Do you know what that really, truly is?”

She focused her energy. _Ignore him._

“I can read your thoughts, Zelda.”

Her concentration broke. “And what do they say?”

“You are terrified, but not of me.” Zero seemed pensive. “You loathe to find what awaits you on the other side, as any living being does. With the deepest, most hidden part of your subconscious… you wonder if you deserve a life beyond this. Then again, what with you being a construct, you can’t exactly be called ‘living’.”

_And he’s always spoken for you, hasn’t he? For you, for all of us. He has prided himself on being the voice of reason, and you will take that acknowledgment with you to the grave._

From somewhere out in the darkness of space, a child called, searching for guidance. Laughter rippled, and gunshots, explosions followed close behind. The air around Zero began to whirl, caught in the grip of a winter storm. Zelda’s chest froze, and she clenched her fists, maintained eye contact with the formless entity as best she could.

She was utterly lost, and as she spoke, voice scratchy, tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. “That’s what I wanted.”

Zero was unsympathetic. “Didn’t you all?”

The dark bolt came with staggering speed, aimed squarely for Zelda’s heart. On instinct, she closed her eyes; even if she had sufficient space to prepare a counter spell, she wasn’t sure if it would work, anymore. Silently, she wished for a quick end.

But the blow never connected.

After a time, Zelda blinked her eyes open.

Ribbon’s Crystal Shard, appearing from its abyssal grave, floated in front of her, buzzing, emanating a soft kind of warmth, folding a serene embrace around her. The last sparks of Zero’s attack died out, fizzled uselessly against the Crystal’s shield.

“Oh. You and your surprises.” Zero’s concern seemed genuine; its eye widened a minute fraction. “How could you control that, I wonder?”

Gracious, its grip soft, the light welcomed Zelda’s tears.

“It’s a construct that relied on Ribbon’s existence, so it should have disappeared by now. Interesting,” continued Zero, struggling to come to terms with what had just transpired. “I’m assuming you don’t know, either, which means that you just… got lucky. As absurd as luck is, you mortals seem to have an abundance of it.”

Zero struck again, then again, and each lance, each spike of concentrated dark magic was negated. With each attack, the Shard was there, its fortified shield infallible. With each attempt, Zero grew more frustrated; its monolith of an eye narrowed, and the barrage grew in intensity, until the curses fell like rain. Pounding, violent, the sound of dark energy clashing against the Crystal’s magic was a sequence of thundering claps, resonant without meaning.

None of them pierced through.

Had she still been standing, Zelda would have fallen to her knees. She cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle her aching sobs, the radiance overwhelming, the familiarity carving an empty hole in her chest. _Ribbon._

What in the name of anything had she done to deserve them?

“You dare?” The assault stopped. “You… That talk of energies was a lie! Your notions of good and evil alignments, differently colored auras; none of it mattered! Your purpose means _nothing!_ ” Zero’s words thundered, indignant. “There are no sides, no fates that are more deserving of victory than the other! _You—all of you—are a coincidence!_ ”

Was it really so meaningful, her lack of purpose? Her tears froze in consideration, her breath stale, pondering the question together.

 _There’s no point, anymore,_ she wanted to say. _I wanted to so badly find answers, wanted to know I had sided with the “right” ones. Made the “right” decisions. It never really made a difference what we were in the first place, but only now am I willing to… put any faith in that idea. Maybe it was something important to Zero…_

But not to the people who mattered.

Something within Zelda told her to keep going. Her Triforce, together with the Crystal Shard, gathered light, a duet of stars melding, merging for one unified purpose. The fire magic she channeled smoldered quietly inside her, building heat.

_Zero was wrong. You see what you want to see, no matter how selfish, but you are a good soul,_ a sudden presence in her mind said, caring, ringing in a low bass register. _I realize now. This was not your preferred choice, but… it seems like you get to end it._

There was always something more.

“Your self-centered friends are dead!” The entity that encompassed the world began to panic; with Zelda, the opportunities were endless, the outcomes astonishing in quantity. She seemed so wrapped up in her own supposed monarchy, a remnant of queenliness where none should have existed. “Why struggle? You—you do so for nothing! Do you realize that you fight against the very impossibilities of the unknown? How can your tiny, fabricated life hope to survive when I’m not there to personify evil for you?”

Even to herself, Zelda sounded almost cheery. “I—I don’t know what will happen. But, if it’s not me, someone, somewhere, will manage. Like we did.”

“Does saying that give you a sense of closure, then? Does it? Answer me!” At the end of their path, Zero was enraged. “Wouldn’t you like that so much, you selfish, unbearable tool of a living person? You want your last moments to be the centerpiece of it all, don’t you? The spotlight’s only on you, and you’re going to take the stage to show everyone how wrong I am. Is that right?”

Zelda had no room for his words, anymore.

“If we’re selfish for wanting to live and die happy,” said Zelda, “then so be it.”

“You—”

She felt the familiar, careworn grip of her bow materialize in her palm, her Triforce shining. Flames wreathed her hands; instead of smoke, divine mist rose from her fingers, golden, turning iridescent, prism-like as the Crystal hummed its hushed melody nearby.

From the ether appeared before her a single arrow of light, the magic in her vicinity overwhelming. She palmed it, gently set it to the bowstring.

Somehow, with this simple act, she had struck a chord.

Zero’s disembodied voice swelled, then broke. “Your happiness gets you nothing! After all this effort, all the bloodshed, the people dying, the time you spent ready to give up… Why bother? Why not just lie down and do what I did? All of you are below insignificant; I did nothing wrong. You could never even dream of blaming me; I was never the real cause.”

The world, the unearthly wind silenced itself, allowed Zero the room to speak. “I… I just wanted to show you how I felt.”

Disbelieving, Zelda shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to reliable anger. Far too many things had changed. “You did. But like you so often told us, it doesn’t matter. None of what we do matters, and you don’t understand connection. You’re just too selfish to see it.”

Screeching with newfound lunacy, an explosion of sound promising gleeful torture and the wasting of countless lives, Zero unleashed a storm of lightning, sent out spheres of darkness beyond comprehension. They converged on this one solitary figure, seeking to wipe away the annoying speck of something that dared to be different than them—

The Crystal, bound through devotion, busied itself preparing yet another domed shield around the “queen”. The sound upon impact was a chorus of bells, ringing for a time of change, wishing, welcoming in a new dawn.

Aiming carefully, her breathing calm, Zelda looked down the shaft of her nocked arrow and let go.

The arrow sailed effortlessly, carrying with it a trail of brilliance, a song that seemed to go on forever, to ring outward into the silence. Augmented with the power of the Crystal Shard, it pierced the storm, disrupting spells, drawing away lightning, whistling pleasantly for all the world to hear.

Soaring, free of cares, it stabbed through Zero’s red eye with a violent crack, scattering blood before biting through its core. It encountered resistance there; maybe Zero was more selfish than they were in wanting to live—

Then it was through, spearing cleanly, and when it left her enemy’s nebulous body it pulled Zero back with it through space, its wings buffeting the fluid air as the spirit attempted to maintain some false impression of balance.

With a strong sense of finality, Zero began to dissolve, and the forces that congregated close to it dissipated, as well. The darkness of the unknown around them was losing strength, as was the Dark Matter nestled deep in Zelda’s conscience, the essence that gave her life awoken in time to see its extinction through.

XxX

Fleetingly, oddly placed in the void, Zelda had a vision.

She was back with Ribbon, observing her own form wandering aimlessly, watching a memory of herself move through the bleak obsidian landscape with a burden upon her shoulders. Even from a distance, her mirrored features obscured by her grime-streaked cheeks and windswept hair, Zelda could see the spark in her own eyes smoldering, burning through the darkness both intangible and within reach.

She had long since forgotten the purpose of that light. Finding Addie, seeking answers… Believing, deep down, in the past and present, that Snake was somehow still alive…

In the world that had paradoxically welcomed and scorned them, Ribbon asked, “Hey, Zelda. Got something, um… Got something to ask.” The fairy’s voice carried over the lonely plain, the lifeless grasses beating their own rhythms, the trees like skeletons rattling in tandem. “Do, um—have you dreams told you anything else, about the future, and all that?”

“No, not exactly. Why?”

“Oh, no reason in particular.” The fairy was quiet. “I just… No. No, I think I’ll just… not tell you. Or ask, or something.”

“Ribbon…” The Hylian kept her voice gentle. “I can’t—I mean, for all my magic, there’s not much I can do if you don’t let me know.”

“Well, sure. I, um… You seem so self-assured. Like, these things you keep seeing about how Snake knows—or will know—everything… I mean, maybe it’s because you’re a queen, but still. It’s crazy.”

“How so?”

“Well, my dreams are a mess. They’re all really confusing, and sometimes I dream about what’s already happened to me. To us. Usually it’s… it’s all nonsense. When I do see something that might happen, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Oh. Well, that’s all right.”

Ribbon was beyond perplexed; her next words came with difficulty. “But yours; you place so much faith in them… How? How can you just say, _oh, well, if this doesn’t work out then I’ll find some other way_ , _and if, if Snake really has turned on us_ —if he’s still alive at this point— _then, then I’ll deal with it when we get there_. You know? What do your dreams even tell you?”

_Beyond… telling me to seek out this one man with an almost religious fervor?_

Out loud, Zelda instead replied with her own question. “What are you getting at?” If anything, she needed to draw the topic to something more palatable. She found little sense in degrading her own motivations further. Not when Zero did so much of that, already.

“How can you be sure of something so… unknown? So impossible?”

“If it’s unknown,” Zelda explained, “anything could happen.”

“Yeah,” chimed Ribbon. “We could all die, painfully, like Zero wants.”

“I thought you didn’t like it when Addie was being… so harsh.”

Ribbon stared, the horizon line looming, the silhouette of Zero’s palace a chain of rocky crags, zigzagging canyons, and monoliths of crystal and concentrated Dark Matter. “I still don’t. I’m just—I mean, I think it helps to be realistic.”

The reflection of “Zelda” shrugged. “Maybe I’m not completely sure. Optimism has never done us much good here, I’ll admit. But, it’s a nice feeling. I just hope it pays off.”

XxX

_I see that this isn’t the ending you wanted,_ the Dark Matter inside her spoke up again, quieter this time as the world lost all feeling around them. Zero’s aura, the ever-present parasite, had still not dissipated fully. _It’s not the happiest, but it’s something. I suppose this wasn’t a net loss._

She agreed.

XxX

“Zelda, wait, wait… We can’t follow him.”

“What?” Zelda’s echo faced Ribbon, aghast. She pulled her hand from the young fairy’s grasp. If there was anything the queen could do for her, it would be to remedy her panic, keep all their thoughts sound. “You don’t mean for him to face Zero alone, do you?”

“I—ah, no, no. It’s not like I want him to lose, or anything—”

“Then,” Zelda started, brows crunched, “we really should help him.”

“Okay, all right. So—so what happens when we go in there, all impulsive-like, and try to win? We’ll die, all of us, and not because we didn’t try to live.” The fairy buzzed in placed, flustered. The energy of the unknown gathered in the halls, Zero’s aura an impenetrable cloud that hung over them. “He won’t kill Addie, if she’s still alive, and if we’re not stupid about—doing this. We, we need time to plan, like I was about to tell Snake before he _wandered off to die for real, I guess—_ ”

“We can plan as we go along,” Zelda said, walking forward. As tired as she was, she could sense the energy in the atmosphere, building to a critical charge. How long did she have to act? “None of us can afford to wait.”

“Zelda, please, please. Hold on—”

“I can’t let him die,” insisted Zelda. “I—I couldn’t watch that happen, without—without doing something. Not again.”

“He’s going to get Addie killed!”

Zelda froze, caught under a violent light. She spoke with such certainty… “What? I don’t see—How can you say that?”

“W-well, if he doesn’t do what Zero wants, or if he makes him mad… Zero will want to punish someone.” Buckling under the pressures of the indefinite future, Ribbon’s voice creaked, losing control. “And, and Addie’s there, too. Snake won’t be alone. He doesn’t—he won’t fight Zero on his own terms.”

Seeing through Ribbon’s abject terror, Zelda hummed a note of disapproval, tremulous. “You’re underestimating him.”

But she heard it, could sense the thought building in the fairy’s tiny, four-winged frame: _You won’t have to watch him die, if you don’t follow him._

_Having faith, believing your peers will do what is best, with what they can… It’s terrifying to her._

“Well. You want to find Addie, don’t you?”

Ribbon’s voice caught, tangled in her lungs. “She, she could be dead.”

Zelda chose her next words with caution, fearing the child’s eventual breakdown. “I know you care for her. So, finding—seeing what you don’t want to see… For both of your sakes, that is something you need to risk.”

The fairy looked up, and the devastation there manifested in her shaking hands, her fluttering wings, humming with restlessness. Her mouth twisted, straining to keep herself bottled up. She reached a clenched fist to her eyes, swiftly rubbing her threatening tears away. Her attempt at a mumble went nearly unheard.

Zelda leaned in. A part of her was completely, utterly lost, but internally, she prayed for Ribbon’s strength. “Try to speak up.”

“I can’t,” whispered Ribbon. “I’m—I can’t. I don’t, I’m not sure if I, I could ever handle—”

Her tears spilled over, sobbing less with gulps of air and more with a long, keening wail, punctuated with choppy, heart-rending cries.

Without thinking, Zelda knelt on one knee and reached for a hug.

Ribbon froze where she stood, wings paralyzed, her tears momentarily dumbfounded. Her movements methodical in their slowness, she unclenched her hands, wrapped them around Zelda, and buried her face in the queen’s shoulder.

Eventually, both of them lost track of time.

From down the hall came the sounds of breaking crystal, fracturing obsidian. A wall of wind, brutal, unforgiving, swept into the corridor, snapping torches off their perches, blowing away their flames. The sounds of conflict, of flailing bodies and cracking bones rang clear.

The queen gently pulled herself away and got to both feet. “I think it’s safe to assume that was Zero. We really should get going.”

“Wait, wait, not yet,” Ribbon said, still wiping away her tears. “I can’t; what if I can’t control the Crystal? What if—what if I’m the reason Addie dies, or Snake loses, or, or you end up—”

“You’ll… You’ll be all right. Remember, it’s a risk that’s worth taking.”

XxX

 _It’s… going to be fine, won’t it?_ Dark Matter’s voice was now just a whisper, a dying candle. _Like you said, like you once thought, it’ll work out. Maybe you won’t be around to see it, but it will. All you can do now is trust._

She felt odd. Her essence was dissolving, and she felt no pain. _In what?_

_Oh. I don’t know. Trust that you did the “right” thing, for the “right” people. You’re good at that._

Zelda was losing consciousness. She felt her bow leave her hand, the heat at her core fading. Somehow, she sensed the Crystal Shard was no longer with her.

Then, at the end of it all, she had nothing.

XxX


	15. Reset

When Zelda found herself once more, she was standing ankle deep in snow, a mild blizzard wailing into being. Ice crystals crunched where she lurked, exhausted beyond words, the wind shaking loose hair into her eyes, her face. Ravens called in the distance, their cries harsh and dissenting, a haunting soundtrack for the falling of fresh snow, set against the darkening night and the lonesome glow of a crescent moon. Thin clouds formed a ring up above, building, growing in size as the wind slowly began to whip them into masses of fog and glacial water.

She looked around, taking it in, fighting the dread that coursed through her. Her hands were frozen underneath her worn gloves as she began to walk forward, with no real destination in mind other than to see where the snow and the northern gales took her.

Was this a kind of hell? She knew who she was; Zero had brought that point home countless times, in countless ways.

In the bottom of her chest, crippled and bruised, shackled by the burden of knowledge, she understood. If this was indeed some kind of cursed afterlife, meant for beings like her, automatons conjured by a false creator…

She had no right to protest her place in it.

The queen couldn’t help but let their listless voices, their agonized screams echo in her head, played back with the clarity of a lucid dream. She couldn’t understand all of it, but they confirmed what she had always thought.

_I can’t protect anyone._

To the snowy skies, Zelda asked, “Where am I?”

“With me,” a familiar voice rumbled.

She turned around to face Snake, his left cheek still burned, right arm still missing, his stomach brutally scarred. His one good eye focused intensely on her, cutting through the winter storm. Two bloodless holes gaped where the Shard and the crystal spire had once pierced him through. His clothes were torn, in urgent need of repair. Expressionless, the mercenary watched her keenly, unfazed by the snowstorm.

“Oh, no. Snake, I’m sorry,” she said, shaking, reminded suddenly of her failure to keep the people around her alive. “I tried. I tried; I swear I did—”

He walked closer and interrupted her with a simple, one-armed hug.

Zelda’s heart dropped to her stomach. She held in her tears as best she could and reciprocated the gesture; she had cried enough, for several lifetimes, perhaps for lifetimes that weren’t even her own.

“It’s okay,” he said, quietly, his words rough like gravel. He knew. “It’s okay.”

Zelda sobbed in earnest, the sound eclipsed by the roaring snowfall. Her friend stood, a statue, patient as he kept his remaining arm around her.

She tightened her embrace, shaking, reining herself in. “I wish—I wish you’d been there to see Zero die.”

“Yeah.”

They lingered like this in silence for several more moments, the northern gale breathing life across the white plain, the night clean and crisp.

The company of another living being, having a comrade close by…

It felt nice.

Then they pulled apart, and Zelda asked, wiping away her tears, “What—what do you want me to call you, now?”

He considered the question for a while. “David is fine.”

Zelda turned her head up, looked into the biting cold and blinked away ice crystals, watching for stars. “Do you know where we are?”

“Twin Lakes, Alaska.”

She looked at him, uncomprehending.

He tapped his temple with his index finger.

Partially understanding, she sat down on a rock and stared into the untamed night. “I don’t get it, though. I’m a remnant of your experiences, and you… You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I am.” Snake scanned the frozen tundra, his gaze settling on the gently falling snowflakes. The wind had died down, seemingly out of courtesy. “There’s just a little bit of me left, living out one last memory.”

“Is Dark Matter still around? To give all this shape?”

“I’m not sure about that. But what Zero did… It’ll take a while to undo.”

“You mean, restoring everything to—to how it used to be?” _Locking your ghosts back in the closet. Putting you back to rest, I suppose._

He nodded. “Sure.”

“I don’t deserve this,” said Zelda suddenly. “This, this closure… I’m not the one who needed it the most.”

Snake sat down heavily next to her, wincing, steadying his right arm stump. “Well, you’re getting it, anyway.”

_Addie and Ribbon,_ she wanted to intervene. _They should be here, having a revelation together, figuring out where to go, what to do about their feelings. Ideally, professing their adoration for one another. They were young; they deserved more time. Not me. I’m—I’m a dead end. Just a poor imitation of someone I’ve never met._

Zelda looked over at him, his face etched heavily with something like guilt. Even without her ability to read people, she knew what he was thinking. _They were just kids, and you know that. We all did._

Their eyes met, and Snake shifted his gaze.

_How much does he blame himself, I wonder? For letting Zero take control of him like that, for not being strong enough to resist? For being the one to kill Addie, unable to comfort them in their final moments, to perhaps assure them that they were more than just constructs of memories… Because everything, everyone is worth something._

They sat in silence. Zelda barely sensed the cold, even on her exposed skin.

“It feels odd,” she volunteered carefully. “Talking to you like this, knowing I was made from a… a blueprint of your memory of a person, being fully aware of the fact.” After a short pause, she admitted, “I’m not entirely sure how to hold a conversation with you, anymore.”

“It’s fine.” He waved a hand. “Just keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

She sighed and said, “If you’re right about everything returning to normal, I don’t know how much time we have left.”

“The trick is to not think too hard about that kind of thing.” Snake stared down at the snow, then peered into the night sky, as if he was holding a staring contest with the moon. “I’ve had plenty of experience.”

“Thank you,” Zelda muttered drily, playfully. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, while I think about not thinking about it.”

She saw the wheels in Snake’s head turn for a full minute and laughed. The feeling was something indescribable, freeing. With this euphoria, she could have run for miles, without rest. It wasn’t like she had a reason to, anymore, but she imagined it would just feel nice. “You’re not going senile on me, are you, old man?”

“No,” he grumped, half-joking.

Even then, he seemed miles away.

“This may not be the best time,” Zelda pondered, “but do you remember what your afterlife was like?”

His expression turned serious. “Why? Wondering what’s waiting for you?”

“I-In a way, yes.”

“Sorry. Can’t help you there.”

She nodded. “That’s fine.”

More silence.

Still, Zelda had her doubts. “I just wonder, if I had done something differently, would I have been—”

“Don’t,” Snake warned.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t think about what’s already passed.” He shook his head. “You’ll end up regretting what you can’t change.”

She recalled her origins. “That may be so, but you remembered me.”

He raised an eyebrow and replied, “There was nothing to regret about getting to know you.”

“Hmm.” Zelda scratched her chin, fixed him in an impish smile. “Come to think of it, you were a little bit of a loner during that tournament, weren’t you…? Never mind me being bad with strangers from other dimensions. You were just cranky.”

If he still had both arms, he would have crossed them. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, and whatever happened to you hitting on so many people?” She was teasing him, but a part of her really wanted to know how his mind worked. “What was that about? Were you really that desperate?”

How much could he tell her? Of the Patriots, of Hal and Sunny? Jack and Rose? “People change, Zelda.”

She nodded.

What more could they say?

With the Alaskan air dancing around them, the snowflakes falling and landing lightly, exuding a careless kind of grace memorialized in a memory, the two companions sat in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, too preoccupied to consider anything else.

Zelda said, “David. I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Go for it.”

“All this; the snow, the wind, the moon. I want to know how this memory happened to you. I want to get to know you better.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You might not be around very long to remember it.”

“That’s quite all right,” she said with certainty.

“Okay, then…” Snake settled back. “Let’s just say that after a certain family gathering went sour, I thought it’d be nice to go somewhere quiet. S’how I felt at the time, anyway.” His voice was solemn, fitting under the light of a solitary moon, abandoned by the stars. “An old friend of mine had the same idea. He gave good advice, so I followed it.”

“Advice about…?”

“Letting go of your mistakes. Your regrets. Finding something worthwhile to take away from all of it, then moving on.”

She frowned. “This ‘family gathering’ you mentioned?”

“Patricide,” he replied simply.

The color drained from Zelda’s face. “Your father?”

“Well, ‘assumed’ patricide. It didn’t really kill him, but I wouldn’t find out until later.” He neglected to mention the other one, the double. The differences between the two had grown hazy over the years; he’d be lying if he said he actively wanted to remember every fine detail. “When I saw him alive again, he died, next to me.”

She understood. “This presumed death… That’s why you came here.” It wasn’t a question. “To escape.”

He shrugged. “Built myself a home, raised sled dogs, entered them in races. Could’ve been the rest of my life.”

“Did you regret it?” Zelda was curious. “Did you ever think about what you could have been, had you just remained here?”

“Dead by alcohol poisoning, probably.” Snake’s voice was dry, but Zelda saw how earnest his sentiments were. “Things up north were predictable. You could usually tell when heavy snow would fall next. You knew when the salmon runs were.” He sounded almost nostalgic. “I learned about every edible plant, every seasonal visitor. I learned how best to hunt and track down game. But there wasn’t much else to it.”

She stared down between her feet; the realization hit her then, forcefully. “You—you missed people? Really? You?”

“It wasn’t that simple—”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.” Zelda, impressed, lightly swatted him on the left shoulder. She said, “I can tell you at least missed something of the outside world.”

He gave a light snort. “Yeah. Sure.”

Zelda became quieter. “But you were happy, weren’t you?”

“Maybe. But what I learned up here couldn’t hide what I had done. I lived day to day, believing my father’s murder would follow me to my grave.”

“It didn’t, though.”

“No,” Snake admitted, “because there were bigger things at stake than my personal guilt.” He exhaled heartily. “Got me out of the house, at least.”

“But, really? You regret none of it?”

Again, he thought of Hal and Sunny. “Not a thing.”

“Hmm.” Thoughtfully, Zelda reached down and ran her fingers through the snow.

“Well,” he added, casual, “I did miss my dogs, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

He retraced his words. “Fine. Most of the time.”

Zelda was about to reply when she looked up. All her previous thoughts careened away, and she focused intently on the sights above, mesmerized into soundlessness. The clouds obscured most of the view, but what she could see made her breath freeze in her lungs. “That, up there… Do you know what that is?”

She beheld a cavalcade of light, flickering between a vibrant host of greens and blues, weaving like bands of silk through the sky. For their brief time as the center of attention, the waves outshined the moon, taking up the whole of the night, spreading out across the star-speckled horizon in a hypnotic dance of energetic color and unearthly brilliance.

Wordlessly, she observed the spectacle with an almost devout respect, pinned to the spot, unable to tear her eyes away for even one moment.

No, she didn’t need to know what it was. It didn’t matter, didn’t need a name. It was beautiful, and that was enough.

Snake followed her gaze. “Nice, isn’t it?”

Nodding wordlessly, Zelda continued to watch.

Ravens called in the distance, and the spell was broken. Zelda said, “Did… did this happen every day, when you were here?”

“No. They’re harder to see during the summer.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Something about it being too bright out to view them properly, or something.”

“Or something…” mused Zelda. “Even when… when what I remember of Hyrule had magic, we never got this. I’ve never seen anything else like it.”

“Not many people have.”

“Come to think of it,” she thought out loud, “why is it that I can remember who I was so clearly, if I was born to be some sort of imitation from what you knew of me?”

“Maybe… that’s just who you were. Who you are, in essence. Your history just becomes a part of you, whoever that may be, but doesn’t make up the whole.”

“Hmm. A part of the ‘blueprint’, if you will.”

_Because someone else’s memories, perceptions of me need not determine who I am. Who I’ll become. And, my past belongs to me._

Snake stared at her, intrigued. “You could say that.”

Zelda couldn’t remember when she had last felt this content, but as she gazed up at the night sky and its convoy of radiance, she couldn’t help but smile.

Being a construct created from someone else’s recollections, it seemed, wasn’t all that bad.

As the last vestiges of Dark Matter dispersed into the nothingness that birthed them, the memory of a queen and the misplaced soul of an old soldier, crystallized in one fleeting moment, watched a reflection of the northern lights and talked about wonderful, simple things.

Before long, they were gone, too.

XxX

Across distant shores, under a sky all at once unified and divided, two close friends lounged in a field, the tall grasses hiding them as the watched the clouds roll by. The night air was cold; winter was drifting closer, but the stars, shining in full force, astounding in number, were oblivious.

The pink-haired fairy glanced over. “Hey, Addie. Should you be out this late?”

“What, does Ripple Star have a curfew I just never found out about? Have I been leaving my bed when it’s illegal to do so?”

Ribbon ignored her friend’s sarcasm. “No, no; I was just worried… I mean, you look really tired.” She wasn’t sure of exactly how long the night had lasted, but she could see rays of vermilion light crest over the horizon, setting the canopies of the forest alight. “You need more sleep, is what I think.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me.” Addie waved a dismissive hand. “You’ve seen me do more self-destructive things than not get enough sleep, y’know.”

“We could agree to meet earlier than this,” Ribbon proposed.

Addie said, “It’s fine, it’s fine. I like this. Besides, this works best with your schedule of helping the Queen out, and all. I sleep in late anyway.”

Ribbon conceded. “Maybe you’re right. I just, I dunno…” She fell into a state of meditative silence. “Maybe.”

“Hey,” Addie called, shifting both hands onto her stomach, stretching out atop their grassy hill. “Ribbon, I know what that is. C’mon, spill. You’re worried about something. Which I seriously hope isn’t the curfew rule, since I find that a bit stupid.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Distracted, Ribbon tightened the bow in her hair. “I mean, we don’t even have a curfew rule, and if we did, I’d let you know.”

“Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. But really, I don’t think you’ll let me know at all because—”

“All right, all right. I know. Because you wouldn’t care.”

Addie pointed a finger gun out into space. “Bam. Bingo. You got me there.”

Laughing gently, Ribbon said, “Yeah. Nicely done, me.” She lapsed back into her state of wordless docility. “I fell for it. Wow. Lame.”

“No, but seriously, come on. It couldn’t—I mean, I won’t attack you for feeling upset, or angry, or weird about something. Especially if it’s another fairy in court who’s been bothering you; you gotta spill the gossip with stuff like that.”

“Addie,” Ribbon said suddenly, wiping a loose strand of hair away from her eyes, “have you ever got that feeling like something bad has happened to you, in a completely different dimension? Like, the other version of you just went through some kind of horrible experience?”

Her friend stared, amazed. “No. I mean, I don’t even know what that would look like…”

“There—there’s this awful dream I had, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I mean, it’s kinda crazy.”

“Yeah, tell me.”

“Okay. So, there was this weird parallel dimension, and everything was super dark. Like, excessively so, even for a nightmare. There were a bunch of people I have never seen, and… And I think you were there, too. Like, with your paintbrush, all that.” Ribbon waved her hand in the air, gesticulating to her celestial audience. “It’s weird, because I feel like there’s so much stuff that happened, and strangely, I can’t remember it, at all. Although, I think someone tried to kill me, and I remember them going for it, and then I woke up.”

Addie stretched like a cat. “Did you wake up at the same time as when you died in the dream?”

“Yeah, it felt so fast. Just kinda… flew by.”

“Oh, that kind of dream. Yeah, I’ve had that happen to me, too.” She made a slashing motion across her neck with her hand. “Just, boom. No warning. One minute you’re having a nightmare, and then you’re up, ready to start the day.”

“You said you wouldn’t even know what that kind of thing would look like.”

Addie shrugged. “That’s still true. I’ve never felt like… like there’s a version of me that just got axed, though. Always thought of these dreams as a result of my ‘overactive’”—this she put in air-quotes—“imagination, or me just being absolutely insane in my sleep.”

“Oh.” Ribbon settled back and folded her arms behind her head. “So you’re saying it’s just that?”

“What? No, not unless you want it to be that. I mean, if it makes you feel any better to believe that a clone of you or something just lost their head or drowned, y’know. You do you. Not like I’d want to stop you, or anything.”

“This may kinda seem crazy…” Ribbon trailed off.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Addie, leaning closer to her winged companion. “You know I don’t mind.”

“Yeah. Okay. So, have you ever thought that each time a clone, a different version of you, or whatever you want to call it loses their life… That really was just a look into a parallel universe, where you’re not asleep?”

Addie frowned. “That’s… literally the question you just asked me a minute ago.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you did. About how dreams about you dying are just you kicking the bucket in a parallel dimension?”

“But—Okay, fine, sure; you’re right. I just wanted to know your answer.”

“Yeah, I answered that too, with ‘no’.”

“Oh, you did, didn’t you?” Ribbon scratched her forehead. “Did I just forget that?”

“I guess so.” The painter girl stared at her friend, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure I’m the one who needs sleep?”

Ribbon nodded emphatically. “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen you sleep-deprived, and whatever you think about me when I’m tired, you’re much worse.”

“Fine. I guess.”

They returned to their placid calm. The wind had picked up, but somehow, they felt less cold, being under the glowing stars, immersed in the concert of crickets that chirped and called out to the night, filling the space with ambient noise.

“Y’know,” Ribbon piped up, “I barely remember it at all. I think… I was crying?”

“God, Ribbon.” Addie looked over, eyes wide. “In the dream, or when you woke up?”

“Um. Maybe both.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Addie sat up, the underbrush rustling. “Yeah, listen. Listen. I think it’s best if you just forget about it. From what I’m hearing, it wasn’t exactly the best experience of your life, and it’s not worth your time. Especially if it wasn’t important enough for you to remember more than, like, two details.”

“I think… A part of me agrees with you there.” Despite Addie’s advice, Ribbon couldn’t shake the inherent meaning behind it. “But, there’s just…”

Addie waited for Ribbon to continue. She reached out for the fairy’s hand, and Addie felt Ribbon jump up to a seated position, as if shocked with electricity, before relaxing and slouching over. Surprised, Addie said, “Go on. I’ll be waiting.”

Ribbon stuttered, blushing faintly, “Well, um, it’s just that… we might not have always been happy during it, and I would—would definitely call it a nightmare, but, but—oh, this is way too hard to put into words.”

“Keep trying,” Addie encouraged. If the time they had spent fighting Dark Matter together, cleansing Ripple Star and its Queen had taught her anything, it was that Ribbon needed space to formulate words under pressure. Although, she wasn’t really so sure what was so pressuring about holding hands. “You got it.”

“I just feel like there was something important about it that I have to remember. Like, an obligation, almost.”

Addie blinked in disbelief. “Obligation to what? To your dreams?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. Follow up on them, or… Or figure out what’s going on, at least.”

“You mean, like a dream reader, or interpreter?”

“Sure,” Ribbon agreed. “That works.”

“But you barely remembered it.”

“Isn’t that the point of trying to look back: keeping the ideas fresh?” Ribbon tightened her grip around Addie’s, and it was impossible to discern how aware she was of doing so. “It’s really weird, I know, but I feel this compulsion to remember as much of it as I can… And I think that’s what’s been bothering me so much. I mean, I could’ve just called it a crazy nightmare and left it at that.”

“Yeah. Why didn’t you?”

Ribbon gave a sigh of frustration. “Oh, I dunno, Addie. Maybe I’ve been telling you this so you could help me figure out exactly why I haven’t.”

“Okay, fine. I’m not very good at figuring stuff out in people’s heads, but I’ll try my best.” Addie asked, “Besides knowing me, did you catch any of the names of the people around you, when you were killed?”

Her face strained, Ribbon said, “Yeah, I think so. It went by so fast, though… I felt like I was watching the events happen at double the speed.”

“Okay, sure. And, um… do you remember any of these names? Y’know, at least one or—”

“Oh, oh. I do.” Ribbon tensed at the memory. “Zero was there.”

Addie grew pale. “You mean the one with wings, right? The one that created Dark Star?”

“Yeah, I think. Except it had a weird form… I think, almost human. Took on the identity and behaviors of one, at least.”

“Wait, how?”

“He just seemed… really selfish.”

“Was he the one who killed you?”

“Yeah.”

Addie looked off into the star-speckled horizon and heaved a heavy sigh. “Sure. So why is this memory, dream—whatever—so important? If it were up to me, I’d want to forget something like that. It’s just… too personal.”

Ribbon stared, overcome suddenly with a great sense of sorrow for something beyond her knowledge. She hastily wiped her eyes with her free hand, doing her best to hide her grief. It wasn’t that she expected Addie to laugh at her, or tell her that she was foolish for crying, but she didn’t want Addie to worry about it—

Addie saw through it. “Hey. It’s fine; Zero won’t hurt you here. You’re all right.”

Sniffling gently, Ribbon said, “Y-yeah. Thanks, Addie.”

In response, the artist clasped Ribbon’s hand tighter, showing her solidarity. She gave a slight smile, eyes shining. “Any time.” Then, her tone became serious. “In all honesty, I really think you should just forget about it. If it makes you—if it tears you up like this, it’s not worth worrying about.”

Despite the soundness of Addie’s advice, Ribbon simply couldn’t let go of the thought. Something about the whole scenario was just… strangely captivating. Like it was a story she had barely skimmed, flipped through in a mere moment only to forget her place in the very beginning. If she could recall what the blur of pages had looked like in between the covers, she’d figure this out. She’d find her answers.

Some memories were worth keeping close.

“Maybe,” Ribbon whispered, “maybe I just feel as if that dream had a life of its own. You know?”

Nodding in agreement, but perhaps not fully understanding, Addie reclined onto her back. Soon, still holding Addie’s hand, Ribbon followed her motions and rested beside her. Their silence was comfortable, easygoing. There was no rush.

The stars twinkled pleasantly, distant in space and time, yet brilliant all the same.

XxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and a huge thank you to Trinz, who made sure to leave feedback and comments for a large majority of the fic! All of this was written out beforehand, and if even one person enjoyed reading and interacting with my work, I've done my job :)  
> I'm moving on to probably write my own novel with original characters and all that, so this is all I've got.  
> (Also, if you have questions about anything plot-related, I'll be here to clear things up. If you're curious as to where this fic came from, read my profile for more info. Thanks again!)


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